


Red, Blue, and Black

by gyruum



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: Bratting, Choose Your Own Adventure, Dirty Talk, F/F, Face Slapping, Knifeplay, Light Sadism, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Spencer Hastings is a bottom, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:01:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29603535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gyruum/pseuds/gyruum
Summary: It's Aria's birthday, and she wants to scene with Spencer. But which one will she pick?
Relationships: Spencer Hastings/Aria Montgomery
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IncognitoDuck11](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncognitoDuck11/gifts).



> This is a very basic "choose your own adventure" style fic, in that you'll make a choice at the end of chapter one where to go. There are 3 options, each of which is a different version of the second scene.
> 
> Big thanks to IncognitoDuck11 for being my biggest smut cheerleader, heh. ENJOY.

Aria’s phone dings quietly as it lights up with a message from Spencer. 

(6:17 PM) **_Ready to go? I just parked._**

She crosses the room to pick it up, loving the sound of her new black Manolo Blahnik pumps striking the hardwood floor of their apartment. The staccato rings with intent and purpose, like she’s on her way to do something far more important than answer a text. It makes her feel like she might crumble the phone with the bare strength of her fist, or something else badass. She could kill a man just by looking at him.

Aria doesn’t know if Spencer’s going to lose her mind more over these heels or the stunning dress she bought to go with them. The halter neck, sleeveless, _gorgeous_ black dress holds tightly to each of Aria’s curves, front split at the leg to help her walk as confidently as she feels, and open in the bust to show off two of her best assets. It’s rare they dress up for each other like this, only when the occasion feels special enough, so it’s fun to keep it a surprise. Aria dropped an entire paycheck on this outfit but knew it would be worth it to see the look on Spencer’s face. That moment was now mere minutes away.

(6:17 PM) **_Yep, see you soon._**

Checking it once more for any stray tags or lint she missed, she stands in the middle of the living room in clear view of the front door, and waits. Aria loves this--the simple joy of her fiancée coming home to her night after night, to this haven they’ve built together. Every morning they wake together; every day they choose each other. That’s what love is, and Aria couldn’t love Spencer more.

She anxiously fidgets with her diamond engagement ring and waits for the familiar sound of the deadbolt turning. A very long minute and a half later, it finally comes, and her heart races as she straightens her posture and puts on a beaming smile. 

Spencer opens the door and quickly comes inside, locking it behind her and setting her leather utility bag down at her feet with her back to Aria. The entryway is dark, and Aria can’t see much more than Spencer’s outline. 

“Hi,” Aria calls to her, keeping her distance. She wants to be found here in the light for full effect. There isn’t an inch of her that should be missed in shadow. She looks too damn good for that.

Spencer lingers for a moment, then adjusts her hair, stands tall, and turns around with a grin to start slowly walking down the hallway.

“Happy birthday,” she says, but her message is lost in the simultaneous (and louder), _“Holy shit,”_ from Aria.

Her mouth doesn’t close all the way after the declaration. Spencer is casually strolling toward her, letting the remains of the evening sun reveal her outfit one step at a time. A dark navy men’s pea coat is buttoned tightly around her body, waist-length, with slim slacks to match. Peeking out from under Spencer’s chin, a crisp white collared shirt with a striped silver and navy tie in a tight Windsor knot. The suit fits her too perfectly to not be specially tailored, and Aria can tell right away it’s top of the line, quality material. 

It’s stunning, which must be why Aria can barely breathe.

“I…” she tries, and fails.

“You look incredible,” Spencer says, closing the distance between them. Her eyes are wide, taking in the glory of her beautiful fiancée without breaking her stride. 

“Wha…” Aria tries again, but Spencer is kissing her before a complete thought can form. 

They wrap their arms around each other, slipping easily into familiar positions as they connect--Spencer tilting down to reach Aria’s mouth; Aria leaning back against Spencer’s arm. Spencer slides a hand down Aria’s back onto her ass and pulls their bodies closer together. Aria’s hand finds Spencer’s chest and presses lightly against the collars of the shirt and coat. The material feels good in her fingers, further embellishing her chemical rush.

With a gasping breath, Aria breaks away from the kiss and takes a step back to look at Spencer’s outfit again. “I just…” Words are still failing her. _“God_ , that’s…”

“Exactly the reaction I was hoping for.” Spencer smiles and reaches for Aria’s cheek, cupping it softly and then drawing her in for another kiss, deeper this time. 

Aria hums and melts into it, gradually arching her back as Spencer leans over her. She notices the rich cologne now, as bold as the outfit, and the scent mixes with the taste of Spencer’s root beer flavored chapstick, overpowering her senses. Aria shudders as a chill rushes up her spine. Her hands find their way into Spencer’s hair, temporarily taking hold there before slipping down to grip the wide collar on the jacket instead. It’s overwhelming how good everything feels; she wants it all, _now._

Pulling back once more, Aria breaks away entirely and walks off to find her phone on the kitchen counter. She moves with urgency and immediately starts typing and scrolling.

Spencer watches, confused, but doesn’t follow after her. “Everything okay?”

“Not really.” Aria keeps focused on her task. “Hang on.”

Spencer’s concerned now and steps into the kitchen, but Aria holds up a finger, asking her to wait.

“Yes, hi,” Aria says into the phone, “I have a seven o’clock reservation under Hastings? I was wondering if there’s any possibility we could shift that to nine.”

“Wha--” Spencer starts, but Aria’s raised hand keeps her at bay.

“Damn,” Aria says, turning away and readjusting her hold on the phone. “Okay. Do you have anything available tomorrow night?”

“Aria,” Spencer cuts in. “We’re going to dinner!”

_“Wait,”_ Aria sternly whispers, pointing, then refocuses. “That’s perfect. Thank you so much. See you tomorrow.” She hangs up the phone and sets it down with a deep exhale.

Spencer still has no idea what the hell is going on. “What was that?”

Aria’s voice is back to its usual chipper tone, like everything is perfectly normal. “We’re booked for tomorrow at eight.” She reaches into the cabinet for a wine glass and sets it on the counter, without any further regard to Spencer.

“Since when do you not want to go to Vallozzi’s on your birthday?”

Aria reaches into the fridge for an open bottle of white wine and pulls the cork out with her fingers, then pours a small glass. “Honestly? Since you showed up looking like that.” She gestures at Spencer’s chest, then downs the wine in one long sip.

Spencer’s mind goes into panic overdrive. She fucked up. She ruined Aria’s birthday. Immediately she looks down at her clothes and tries to find what’s so awful about them. The fit is wrong, or the color, or she went too masculine. She should’ve known better. “I’m such an idiot. You hate it. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Her face crumples, devastated.

“Spencer, Spencer,” Aria says, moving forward to take her fiancée’s hands reassuringly. “It’s good. A little _too_ good, actually.” She steps back, without letting go, so she can take in the view. “I think I’m kinda pissed I have to choose between looking at you like this and taking them off of you.” She still isn’t making eye contact, too enthralled with the suit.

Spencer’s expression softens and a smile creeps back with her confidence. “So, how does that mean no dinner? This is what I’m gonna wear.”

Aria comes closer and lifts Spencer’s hands to rest around her neck, finally meeting Spencer’s eyes. “It means I can’t risk going out in public with you looking like this, because I might rip your clothes off at any moment.”

“That’s actually very comforting, because I was feeling the same way.”

“Oh yeah?” Aria’s eyebrow arches.

“Have you seen you in that dress? If I wasn’t so worried about this four hundred dollar coat, I’d lie down right now so you can walk all over me in those heels.”

Aria considers this for a moment. “Sounds like we have similar ideas about how this evening should go.”

Spencer slides her hands down Aria’s back to rest around her waist. “I’m all yours, birthday girl.”

Slowly, Aria leans forward, closing the distance for a kiss--only, she diverts at the last moment to move her lips to Spencer’s ear instead and asks softly, “Then can we scene tonight?”

Spencer turns to find Aria’s eyes. “Abso _lu_ tely,” she says with a _fuck yeah_ tone. “I’m guessing you have something particular in mind.”

“A few possibilities.” Aria drags a finger along Spencer’s tie and up her collar, onto her throat, and then slowly traces a nail along Spencer’s jawline until she reaches her mouth. She pushes her fingertip between Spencer’s lips and catches it in her teeth, relishing the gentle sharpness against her skin. “Depending on what you’re up for.”

Spencer begins sucking on the fingertip as she considers her options. They’ve scened over a dozen times before and worked out a few favorite scenarios worth revisiting. The best ones, they both agree, let Aria explore her power-hungry side while Spencer explores her submissive side. Over time, they’ve allowed each other to try new things, usually darker curiosities, often surprised by how much they enjoy play-acting such extremes. They developed codes representing different scenarios, along with the rules of each, for nights such as this.

Aria withdraws her finger and moves in to replace it with a kiss, then gives Spencer a chance to answer her question.

“It’s your birthday, you should pick,” Spencer says. “I could do red, blue, or black, I think.”

“Oh yeah?” A wicked smile crosses Aria’s face, and she leans closer to Spencer’s ear again. “Then _I_ think we’re gonna have a hell of a night.”

**If Aria chooses RED, go to Chapter 2**

**If Aria chooses BLUE, go to Chapter 3**

**If Aria chooses BLACK, go to Chapter 4**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used some reference pictures for the outfits, so if it helps enhance your enjoyment of the story, [Spencer is wearing this](https://jarrow272.inverteddungeon.com/pics/other/outfit-spencer.jpg) and [Aria is wearing this](https://jarrow272.inverteddungeon.com/pics/other/outfit-aria.JPG). Whew, fire.


	2. Red

Aria tugs at Spencer’s earlobe with her teeth, just a soft nip, then finds her eyes again. “Let’s do red.”

“Mmm, that sounds like sinful birthday fun,” Spencer says with a smile.

“My thoughts exactly.”

Spencer kisses her passionately, fingers once again squeezing tightly into Aria’s beautiful dress to hold the form within it.

A moment later, they break the kiss and Spencer asks, “Ready?”

Aria smiles. “Let’s do it.” 

They stand hand in hand, facing each other, ready to recite the words they scripted years ago.

“I love you, and I respect you,” Aria says.

“I love you, and I respect you,” Spencer echoes.

“I promise to communicate clearly, and listen and obey what you communicate to me.”

Spencer squeezes Aria’s hand a little tighter. “I promise to communicate clearly, and listen and obey what you communicate to me.”

“I will honor your boundaries and limits, and follow the rules we have mutually agreed upon,” Aria says.

“I will honor your boundaries and limits, and follow the rules we have mutually agreed upon.” Just saying the words turns Spencer on; she knows what they lead to, what they mean is coming next.

“Shall we?” Aria asks.

Giving another glance to her incredible dress, Spencer replies, “Definitely.”

Aria’s eyes darken slightly as she says, “Game on.”

“Game on.”

Aria takes a deep breath and steps back from Spencer, granting herself a better view of her companion. She blinks as if coming out of a daydream, as if things are now new and clear and real. Their game has begun.

She looks down at Spencer’s dark loafers--new; she’s never seen them before--up the fine slacks to the hem of the jacket, tracing her eyes from button to button until she reaches the tie and collar and finally Spencer’s face.

“Damn,” is all she can say, shaking her head with a smile. Aria walks forward and slowly circles around Spencer, taking in every angle. 

Spencer remains still, arms at her sides, keeping her head still but trying to follow Aria with her eyes as much as she can.

“You did this for me?” 

“Yes, miss,” Spencer says, slipping easily into her role.

“Because you know you need to impress me,” Aria says as she completes her revolution, stopping in front of Spencer, close enough that their clothes are touching.

Spencer can feel Aria’s breath against her lips. “Yes, miss.”

“You spent all this money…” Her tone sharpens its edge. “Money we could’ve used for rent or a car payment or saving for a vacation or paying off your goddamn grad school loan.” Aria traces her finger down Spencer’s collar onto the tie as she speaks, sounding more displeased bit by bit. “And bought one...single...outfit.”

Their eyes are locked, but in her periphery, Aria can see Spencer swallow a gulp. 

“Yes, miss.”

Aria’s eyes drift back down, examining the stripes on the silver tie. Her smile is gone. “You must think you look pretty good in it, if it’s worth that much,” she says. It’s a dare.

Spencer almost imperceptibly holds her chin a little higher. “Yes, miss.”

“Someone wears an outfit like that...it gives the impression they think they’re important.” Aria picks a loose thread off the shoulder of the coat and flicks it away. She finds Spencer’s eyes again. “Do you think you’re important? Spencer?”

Spencer wonders if Aria can see her heart pounding beneath the layers of her outfit, because it feels like it’s going to burst through her chest. She loves when Aria takes on this authoritative tone and looks at her like _that_ , as if she's the empress of the goddamn world and everyone is just crowding her space. Spencer wants to be worthy.

She thinks back to a previous red game when Spencer failed to assert her own worth, thinking Aria wanted her to prostrate herself. She was wrong, and she made a mental note not to repeat the mistake.

Standing up a little straighter, she says, “Yes, miss,” though she can barely hear it over the pulse drumming in her ears.

“Really?” Aria asks, genuinely surprised. “You think you’re worth my time and attention--on my birthday, no less--simply because you wasted a paycheck on some silk and thread?”

“Yes, miss.” Feeling bold, she adds, “I do.”

Aria’s eyes narrow as she huffs, almost impressed by her brazen bravado. “Well, then. I guess you get one chance to prove it.” Aria takes hold of the tie, pulling the loose end out from under the coat, then slowly slides one hand up, pushing the Windsor knot closer to Spencer’s neck. It tightens, restricting her air flow, and Aria watches it to see just how far she can move it. “You think you’re ready for that?”

Spencer feels the tight squeeze and how it’s only compounding the pulse in her ears, now beating strong against the noose as well. It’s a struggle to breathe, only made harder by the dangerous glint in Aria’s eyes. Spencer thinks she might just perish here on the spot. Somehow, she manages to whisper, “Yes, miss” with what little air is still caught in her lungs.

Still holding tight to the knot, Aria leans forward and takes Spencer’s bottom lip between her teeth, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to earn a whimper from Spencer. It’s a distraction. Aria loosens the tie to its normal circumference in the process and says, “Good,” against Spencer’s mouth. 

Without warning or indication, Aria jerks on the tie and starts walking toward the bedroom. Spencer lurches forward and quickly fumbles to get her feet under her and maintain her balance. It’s hard when she’s being forced to lean over to match Aria’s height, but she doesn’t want to further embarrass herself by falling down. 

Together they make the journey from the kitchen to the hallway with Spencer held tightly on her silk leash. The muffled sound of Spencer’s whimper is lost to the echo of the expensive heels on the hardwood, and Aria feels drunk with power. She only wishes the hallway were longer. She should lead Spencer around more often, she muses.

Aria stops at the edge of the plush carpet to remove her heels one at a time, then brings Spencer to the open floor in front of the nightstand so she is positioned a few feet from the bed. 

When Aria lets go, Spencer remains still, standing patiently to await instruction. 

Aria sits on the edge of the bed with her legs hanging over, crossed at the knee, and foot propped on the bed frame. Her back is straight, and the height of their bed puts her eye to eye with Spencer. The queen-sized cherry wood frame was a splurge purchase, one they couldn’t really afford at the time, but it has paid dividends on nights like this. 

“Take off your coat,” she says. “And your shoes.”

Spencer does and neatly rests the jacket over the back of a chair in the corner of the room, putting the shoes underneath, then returns to face Aria again. “Yes, miss.”

Aria’s smiling now that she can see what Spencer was hiding under the coat--two dark button style suspenders, her favorite. The vertical lines, parallel to the tie, only make Spencer look taller. Aria loves how big Spencer is, such a powerful presence in the world. But she also loves making Spencer small.

“You’re a woman of few words,” she mocks, tilting her head. Just because they came up with the design of this game together doesn’t mean she isn’t going to have fun with it at Spencer’s expense.

Spencer folds her hands in front of her and tries to hold eye contact, too distracted by what she thinks she saw when Aria crossed her legs--or rather, what she didn’t see: panties. “Yes, miss.”

“I can respect that, to a point. Get on your knees.”

Spencer does, without delay, eyes trained on their plush cream carpet. She keeps her hands at her sides, awkwardly fidgeting and unsure of what to do with them. “Yes, miss.”

“God, you’ll do anything I say, won’t you?” Aria laughs. Her face is glowing. She loves this so much.

And Spencer knows it. She still doesn’t look up. “Yes, miss.” 

“You’ll just stay right there on the floor, no matter what I do, because I said so.”

But now, her eyes find Aria’s, because she wants her to see how much she means it. “Yes, miss.”

Holding her gaze, Aria uncrosses her legs and slides off the bed to the floor, then slowly walks toward Spencer. She circles around her again, but this time she’s looming large, and Aria drags her fingernails through Spencer’s hair as she passes behind her. 

When her orbit is complete, Aria stops in front of Spencer with her back turned, ever cognizant of the fact that her ass is only inches from Spencer’s face (and how incredible it looks in this dress). 

“Unzip me,” she says.

“Yes, miss.” Spencer reaches up and finds the small black zipper hidden at the neckline and carefully drags it downward until the track ends. 

The black dress falls effortlessly to the floor, and Spencer releases all the air in her lungs. Aria is completely naked, perfect and gorgeous, standing like a goddess before her. It takes all of Spencer’s willpower not to reach out again for Aria’s ass. She wants that soft skin against her fingertips, wants to kiss every inch of her body and hold Aria close and love her in all the ways she deserves.

But, no. She holds the line, because that’s what Aria told her to do.

And then Aria leans forward to pick up the dress, bending at the waist with her knees locked and revealing all of herself to Spencer in the process, still inches from her face. It’s cheeky and intentional--Aria knows exactly what she’s doing.

Spencer’s brain short circuits, now so close to Aria that she can smell her arousal, and it feels like torture to be this near yet unallowed. She lets out a gasp, more of a plea than a word, but bites it back and just watches Aria move in front of her.

Standing upright again, Aria takes the dress into their walk-in closet and returns a moment later. She approaches Spencer, still obediently on her knees, and stands so close that her legs press into Spencer’s back. Aria begins playing with Spencer’s hair again, taking it all in her hands to untuck it from the shirt collar and run her fingers through it. 

Spencer’s eyes fall closed, lost in the soothing sensations, then she’s abruptly jerked out of it as Aria yanks hard on her hair, pulling her head back at an angle. She feels breath against her ear now, and Aria’s lips are so close. 

_“Do I have your attention?”_

“Yes, miss,” Spencer whispers back, trembling. Her pulse is racing, and her palms are sweating against her overpriced slacks.

Aria lets go of her hair now and reaches forward with both hands. They move down Spencer’s front, taking hold of the suspenders between her fingers and gently sliding up until she reaches Spencer’s shoulders. 

“Much as I appreciate your compliance,” she begins, “I’m looking for a little more from a woman like you.” Aria wraps her fists under the straps, increasing the tension. “But I don’t know if you’re up for that.” She sounds disappointed, shamelessly baiting her.

“Yes, miss,” Spencer says, letting her heavy eyelids fall once more. “I am. I can.”

Aria tightens her hold further. “You think so?”

“I promise. Anything you want.”

“Anything?” Aria unwinds her fists and takes the tops of the suspenders to lift them over Spencer’s head, crossing them and then pulling the intersection against Spencer’s throat. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“Anything,” Spencer repeats. “Please, miss.”

“Now, _that_ I like the sound of,” Aria says and uncrosses the suspenders to return them to their resting position. Then, she takes hold under Spencer’s chin and lifts, pulling Spencer’s head back against her. “Again.”

 _“Please_ , miss.” Spencer’s eyes are squeezed shut, unsure if she’s allowed to look. It’s hard to speak with Aria pinning her jaw, but she will fight to say the right words. Whatever those are.

“Please _what_? I want to hear you say it.”

“Please,” Spencer says. “Please let me touch you.”

“Is that all you want?” 

Aria pulls harder under Spencer’s chin, and now Spencer can sense that the back of her head is squarely between Aria’s legs. She wants so badly to turn around, to have her face there instead, to use all this desire to bring them both release. But she can’t. 

Aria grabs the suspenders behind Spencer’s back and pulls, creating more tension. “You’re gonna have to do better than that.”

 _“Please,”_ Spencer begs. Her body braces against the straps, and her fists clench at her sides. “I need it. I need to touch you. Please, miss. _Please.”_

“Hmm,” Aria hums against her ear. “I’m starting to believe you. But I’m still not sure you want it badly enough.”

“I do, please. Please.”

Aria releases the suspenders and pulls harder on Spencer’s hair, making it clear this isn’t a reprieve. Kneeling a bit, herself, Aria slides her hand down Spencer’s chest and stomach until she reaches the waistline of the navy slacks. Pressing further, Aria’s hand slips under and finds its way into Spencer’s boy briefs.

Spencer inhales sharply at the feeling of Aria’s fingers against her skin, and the space it creates at the beltline only makes it easier for Aria to find her way to Spencer’s entrance. Slowly, Aria drags a single fingertip through the slick wetness; it moves easily, and she’s careful to avoid direct contact with Spencer’s clit as she reaches the top. 

Withdrawing her hand, Aria brings the shiny fingertip to her mouth and closes her lips around the salt, humming again in approval. “I guess you do,” she says.

“I do,” Spencer pleads again. “I do. Please, miss. Please let me touch you now. I’ll be so good for you.”

Bending down by Spencer’s ear, Aria yanks on her hair again and says, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To make me shiver underneath you. To put your fingers on me and inside me. To feel how wet I am. To taste me everywhere.” Aria presses her sinful fingertip to Spencer’s cheek, just under her eye, and drags it downward, leaving a small trail.

“Yes. _God_ , yes.” Spencer tries to nod, but it hurts. So, she does it again.

“I bet you wonder how deep you can go,” Aria muses. “What hidden parts of me you can reach. What sounds you can draw from me if you press hard enough in all the right places.”

 _“Yes, please,”_ Spencer pants. “I need to!”

Aria just breathes for a moment, letting the warm air tease against Spencer’s ear as she smiles wickedly. She’s enjoying this immensely. In her mind, she’s three moves ahead, almost like a chess match, and Spencer’s about to find out she’s in check. Not that she should be surprised, when she’s being pinned by a queen.

“Then, it’s too bad you didn’t just say so.” Aria’s words are laced with disappointment and mockery, and Spencer gets the message loud and clear as she whimpers, exasperated. 

“But...but I did...please, miss, I did!”

Spencer isn’t the wordsmith Aria is, and she never will be. This time her best wasn’t good enough--the perfect way to cut Spencer to her core.

Aria lets go of Spencer’s hair and takes a step back, undoing all of their physical contact. The change is cold and sudden, and Spencer’s head falls forward from the release. 

“Get on the bed,” Aria says. “Lie on your back.”

Spencer rises immediately, stumbling a bit on her tender knees. Her stunning new outfit, she realizes, is already wrinkled to shit. “Yes, miss.” She climbs up and lies down on the near side of the bed--her side--and centers her head on the pillow. Spencer isn’t sure if she’s supposed to look over or not, so she plays it safe and stares at the ceiling.

“In the middle.” Aria sounds as thrilled as if she were asking Spencer to take out the trash. “Arms out.”

Spencer swallows. “Yes, miss.” She complies, cautiously extending her arms toward the sides of the bed. She knows what this means: no touching for her, after all.

With Spencer squarely in position, Aria goes to the nightstand and opens the drawer, then digs around until she finds two black velcro wrist cuffs. She wraps one around Spencer’s left wrist and hooks it to a long bungee cord that they leave running under their bed. (They figured out months ago how to work around not having bedposts. It was a cheap and simple solution, and felt very lesbian of them.) Aria then crosses to the other side and cuffs Spencer’s other wrist, hooking it in a bit more forcibly than the first.

“Thank you, miss,” Spencer says, because they both know she doesn’t really mean it.

“Maybe now,” Aria says, walking back to where she began, “you can put that smart mouth to good use.” She closes the drawer and looks at Spencer with a sigh. “You have yet to convince me.”

“I…” Spencer starts, but doesn’t know if making herself sound more pathetic will help or hurt her case. “I’m sorry, miss. I’ll try harder.” She pulls at the restraints for effect, and her legs kick a little as she moves. Aria may as well be a mile away; they’re much too far apart. “Please come closer. Please.”

Much to her delight, Aria does start moving, and Spencer’s breath catches in her lungs. Only, Aria’s moving further away, down to the foot of the bed, where she stands and faces Spencer head on. The lower half of her body isn’t hidden from view for long--Aria pulls herself up and carefully rises to stand between Spencer’s feet. 

She looks ten feet tall, and Spencer’s lips part involuntarily, allowing more air in as she gazes upward. One step at a time, Aria makes her way forward, stepping around Spencer’s body and balancing on the soft mattress, closer and closer still, until her feet plant on either side of Spencer’s stomach.

Aria looks down, towering over her charge with hands on her hips, and chuckles a bit at how small and helpless Spencer looks. “Is this close enough for you yet?” she taunts.

Spencer’s big brown eyes are locked on hers, staring up in awe, as if trained to avoid the temptation of looking elsewhere. Without blinking, she shakes her head. “No, miss.”

Aria shifts her feet forward slightly, squeezing her ankles against Spencer’s ribs. The view from below is even more tantalizing now, she knows, and when Spencer can’t help but dart her eyes there, Aria smiles.

“I think this is as close as you deserve to be, don’t you?”

Again, Spencer shakes her head ‘no’ and says, “Please come lower. Please. Just let me show you how much I need you.”

But Aria still isn’t swayed. She lifts her right foot and places it on Spencer’s chest, pushing her toes past the stiff collar and into Spencer’s neck, not enough to choke her but certainly enough to be uncomfortable.

Spencer coughs once and shifts at the pressure against her voice box but doesn’t look away. This is a test, and Spencer Hastings doesn’t fail tests. She feels Aria’s toenails digging into the underside of her chin and pushing her head back, but she fights. If Aria wants convincing, that’s what she’ll do. 

With a gasp for strength, Spencer’s face crumples as she confesses, “If I can’t taste you, I think I might die.”

Aria tilts her head at this, considering the argument, and seems to find it acceptable. She drops into a squat, still straddling Spencer’s chest, and watches as Spencer’s eyes follow her all the way down. Aria’s closer to Spencer’s face now but still too far away to satisfy her. Torturing her like this is far too much fun.

Placing a hand around Spencer’s throat, Aria raises her eyebrows and says, “There, now. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She digs her thumb under Spencer’s jaw and squeezes tighter. “Plus? _I think you’re right.”_

Spencer can barely hear Aria’s whispers over the sound of her own pulse, and with her head forced back like this she can’t see Aria anymore, nor can she see where she wants so badly for her mouth to be. She feels Aria sitting on her chest, staining her tie with arousal, just out of reach. 

Maybe Spencer was right after all, because this is actually killing her.

Just when she expects Aria to shift forward and meet Spencer’s lips with her body, Aria stands up, and Spencer whimpers in protest. _“Please!”_

“Keep begging,” Aria says. “I like it.”

But Spencer’s words come to a halt when Aria turns around and resets her footing on either side of Spencer’s head with her back and hands against the wall. She’s standing on Spencer’s hair and the pillow, directly above her, and holding on for stability. 

Spencer doesn’t know what’s happening, but this new vantage point is definitely not helping with the not-dying.

Aria can’t see Spencer’s face anymore, but it doesn’t matter. “I said: beg for me.”

This time, Spencer jerks hard on the restraints as she calls out, _“Please!_ Please come down here, _please_!” She feels a drop of something trace down her face, maybe sweat, maybe not. “I need you so much I’m fucking _crying_ , miss. I love you so much, and I want you, I _need_ you! Please!” she gasps, panting, exhausted.

If that isn’t sufficient, she doesn’t know what will be.

Then, Aria places one foot on Spencer’s shoulder just beside the suspender, pinning her down, and says, “Close your eyes.”

Spencer does as she’s told and tries to steady her breathing. She hears the mattress creak under her and senses Aria’s body getting closer to her face as the darkness beyond her eyelids intensifies. Everything is heightened, and Spencer’s mind races, processing what’s happening as she trembles with anticipation. Lower and lower, closer and closer, until her face is surrounded.

And then, she feels Aria’s salty, soft skin on her mouth, and Spencer forgets how to breathe.

Aria adjusts herself into position, backing up a few inches on all fours to hold herself at the optimal angle. With Spencer’s hands out of play, it’s up to her to get this right. But it doesn’t take much work; they’ve done this countless times. So when Aria feels Spencer’s lips brush against her, she relaxes her back and leans forward to focus on her next task.

Unpinning the suspenders one at a time, Aria then unzips the slacks and slides them as far down Spencer’s legs as she can reach. (Spencer kicks them the rest of the way off without much struggle.) Then, Aria hooks her thumbs into the sides of Spencer’s navy boy briefs and pushes them out of her way, despite how goddamn sexy they are. 

Spencer takes a deep breath and reaches her tongue forward and upward, hungrily, dragging it along the slick surfaces and pushing into Aria’s entrance. The taste is her favorite in the world, and Spencer can’t get enough. Insatiably she licks and moves and sucks and pushes and loves Aria with all the energy and focus she can muster. If she’s lucky, Aria will let her do this for hours.

As she begins to find her momentum, circling her tongue against Aria’s clit, Spencer gasps as she feels a warm mouth cover her own. Aria starts slow, teasing her, but Spencer is too hungry for touch to hold back on her end. She doubles down on her movements and picks up the pace, not giving Aria any reprieve. The upside-down angle is always awkward, but it’s worth it to feel Aria’s mouth on her as she works. Eventually, the pleasure is too distracting, and they settle into a matched pace--moving in tandem, balancing each other, as they do with everything else in their lives.

Aria uses her hands to hold soft skin aside when she needs access, and she reaches as far forward as her small frame allows, mindful not to break contact with Spencer’s mouth. Her tongue can’t reach Spencer’s entrance, so she puts a fingertip there instead and traces it gently as she sucks on Spencer’s clit. Then, without warning, she pushes two fingers inside, marveling at how easily they slide. She knows how badly Spencer wants her, and the pause in movement on her own clit only reinforces how powerful her actions are.

They remain like this for thirteen glorious minutes--Aria pumping her fingers in and out in rhythm with the flicking of her tongue on Spencer’s clit, and Spencer trying desperately to keep focused and give Aria more than she’s getting. But as they continue, her body tells her louder and louder that what she really needs is for Aria to fuck her properly, without distraction and without delay.

“Please, miss,” Spencer hums against Aria’s wet skin, then repeats, louder, “please.”

Aria hears her but pretends not to, and increases the pace of her motions as if chiding her for failing her first attempt.

Spencer pulls her mouth away entirely now, finding space in the crook of Aria’s thigh, and says firmly, “Please fuck me. Please, miss.”

Aria stops all of her movements and sits halfway up. “You say that like I haven’t been.” Her tone has a knife’s edge to it; if she pushes just a little harder, she’ll draw blood.

“No--I mean, thank you, miss,” Spencer stumbles, trying to breathe in her claustrophobic position. “But I need more. More than just fingers. Please.”

She shifts back to resume her work, but then Aria slides her body forward, pulling away from her. Spencer’s face is hit with the cool air of the room, and the change is stark and unwelcome. She leans forward but can’t reach, so she settles back and waits.

Gracefully, Aria climbs off of her and drops back to the floor, then walks over to Spencer and brushes a few stray strands of hair out of her face. She looks beautiful.

 _“Please,”_ Spencer whimpers, playing this up as much as she can. She wants Aria to see it in her eyes and hear her voice cracking. Digging deep, she musters up a tear for effect that shines in the light before it pushes its way out to trail down her cheek. “Please fuck me til I cry.”

Aria’s lips part slightly as she reaches forward to wipe the tear away, then leaves her hand on Spencer’s cheek, digging her fingertips under her jaw. “Looks like you’ve already started.”

Spencer can tell Aria likes it, so she closes her eyes tightly to push out anything else, and a second small drop emerges. 

Aria drags her thumb across Spencer’s lips and down under her chin, taking hold there. “Is that how badly you need it?” She squeezes Spencer’s throat and adds, “that you’re crying like a little bitch?”

Spencer releases the breath she didn’t know she was holding and nods, and Aria takes the opportunity to further restrict more air from getting back in. She leans in close until her lips are brushing against Spencer’s, so she can feel them move as Spencer quietly begs.

_“Please, miss...please...please…”_

Aria squeezes hard to hold her still, then bites at Spencer’s bottom lip again, enough to sting. “Good girl.” Then, releasing her throat, Aria steps back and opens the nightstand drawer again.

 _“Thank you,”_ Spencer whispers, _“thank you, miss, thank you.”_ She sniffs away her runny nose and blinks at the moisture built up behind her eyelids. Adrenaline is coursing through her body, streaks of energy and want, seeking release. Squeezing her fists to release the tension of anticipation, Spencer tries to keep still and wait patiently. She doesn’t want Aria to think she’s protesting or trying to leave. 

But she does wish Aria would hurry the hell up and get on top of her already.

Pushing aside a few more items, Aria finds what she’s looking for and sets the black harness and gold dildo on the nightstand. 

Spencer’s pulse quickens. This is _exactly_ what she wants.

“You know,” Aria says casually as she loads the toy into the front ring and steps into the harness one foot at a time, “I like this outfit on you.” She looks Spencer up and down, smiling at the shirt, tie, and suspenders still covering her top half and then the notably naked bottom half. Pulling the harness up around her waist, she tightens the straps and double checks that all is secure.

Between shallow breaths, Spencer manages to say, “I like this look on you, too, miss.” She doesn’t know where to rest her eyes--Aria’s gorgeous face, her perfect breasts, or the six inches of silicone that’s about to be deep inside of her.

Aria sees her watching and wraps a hand gently around the toy and slides it along the shaft, slowly back and forth. Just once is enough to make Spencer’s eyes widen and breath hitch.

Satisfied with the effect, she crosses back to the foot of the bed and climbs up again. Bending Spencer’s knees to angle her feet out of the way, Aria kneels between Spencer’s legs, close to her but not close enough. She lightly touches her fingertips to Spencer’s stomach and trails them down her hips and legs, sending a shiver up Spencer’s spine. But then in the same motion, she digs her fingernails into Spencer’s thighs, drawing a gasp, and leaves them there.

She locks her eyes on Spencer’s and commands, “Beg.”

Just hearing the word is too much, and Spencer pulls at the restraints again as her whole body protests. She can’t wait anymore, can’t be without Aria’s touch anymore, can’t put off her own release anymore. And at the same time, she wants to do nothing at all so Aria will keep speaking to her like this. Overwhelmed with want, she clenches and pulls and squirms as she cries out, “ _Please!_ Please, Aria! Please, I need you!”

A few seconds pass before she realizes her slip-up and hopes Aria doesn’t mind that she used her name. She knows how much Aria loves the title of power and ownership from her respectful charge.

Aria slides her body forward until the tip of the toy is against Spencer’s entrance. “Again.”

Spencer’s eyes squeeze shut, pushing out more tears of desperation and need, as she repeats the pleas again and again and again. Stretching as far as the cuffs allow, her body reaches to take in the silicone head, but Aria is careful to keep it at minimal contact. Spencer takes fistfuls of sheets in frustration and buries her face against her arm. She can feel the scratchy, white sleeve absorb her tears and sweat and emotion. “Please fuck me, _please, please, miss…_ ”

Suddenly, Spencer is jerked forward, and she opens her eyes and looks ahead to see what’s happening. 

Aria is leaning over her with both hands on her necktie, holding it taut and steady, eyebrows raised in caution. “Look at me while you beg,” she demands.

“Please,” Spencer whispers, locking her eyes on Aria’s. “I need you.” It’s hard to speak with the noose around her neck, but this is important, and she’s determined to find a way.

Aria tugs it tighter. “What do you need?”

Spencer swallows, somehow. “I need you inside me.” Her voice is raspy and dry and strained, and she hopes the words make their way across the bed. 

Another tug. “Louder.”

“I need you inside me,” Spencer repeats, more firmly this time. “Please.” The words crack but the message is clear, and her eyes are screaming louder than her mouth ever could. She knows Aria sees it. They can always understand each other without speaking.

Aria releases the tie, and Spencer’s head falls back against the pillow with a huff. But then she feels tension on her shoulders and looks down to see Aria has taken hold of the unhooked suspenders, both front and back ends, and is pulling on them. 

“Oh, don’t stop now,” Aria warns, wrapping the material around her fists for leverage. “And say my name,” then, she adds for good measure, “slut.”

Spencer’s eyes flutter closed momentarily at the rush; the sound of Aria demeaning her like this never fails to turn her on. It’s one of her favorite things about their scenes--that, and seeing the flashes of power in Aria’s eyes. She knows Aria loves being on the giving end as much as Spencer loves receiving it. One of the many reasons why they’re such a perfect match.

“Please, Aria, please,” she begs, and then Spencer feels the pull on her shoulders slide her downward. The contact against the toy increases and intensifies; the whole head is against her entrance now. Spencer takes the cue and continues, making sure to look right into Aria’s eyes. “More, _please_ , Aria. I need it, I need you inside me. All the way.” 

Braced with the tension of the suspenders, Aria brings their bodies another inch closer. There’s resistance against the toy now; she can feel it. Spencer’s plenty wet but needs to stretch around its size, and Aria’s all too happy to make this process nice and slow so Spencer will feel every bit of it.

“Do you, now?” she asks, then wraps another fistful and pulls again, pushing her hips forward to aid the toy’s trajectory. “You need me to fuck you, Spencer?”

“Yes!” she gasps. It’s the first time she’s heard her name all night, and it hits like a drug in her system. It’s a beautiful, dangerous sound, and Spencer wants Aria to keep her name between her lips forever, let it rest there on her tongue, held between her teeth, always. “Yes, please, yes!” 

Aria pulls again and slides a full inch inside, but stops. Spencer lets out a pained noise and closes her eyes, jaw clenched. The widest part of the toy is caught in her narrowest part, and it hurts, much as she tries to relax and let her muscles stretch around it. But her pulse is pounding too fast, she’s sweating too hard, she wants it too much--there’s no way she’s relaxing now. So she shouts, “God! Please!” and throws her head back, fighting against the wrist restraints again as all the muscles in her core tense in protest.

“Please what?” Aria asks, not taking her eyes off the beauty before her. The reins feel strong in her hands, and it seems fitting that they’re cutting off her circulation. There is no power gained without sacrifice.

Spencer’s chest heaves as she fights to keep her breathing steady. The combination of pleasure and pain is overstimulating her poor brain, and if it weren’t for the straps keeping her tethered to this bed, Spencer’s certain she’d float away. All her pent up energy needs release, or she’s going to explode. 

_“Fuck me, Aria, please!”_ she shouts, tears streaming openly down her face. _“Now!”_

And before she can take another breath in, she feels the full force of the silicone thrust inside her with the strength of the pull on her shoulders. Spencer gasps loudly, processing the immediate shift past the pain point as the toy moves into the soft, open space beyond. “Fuck!” she shouts, letting her head fall back again, and takes in the sensations. 

Aria wastes no time moving her body on top of Spencer’s, propping herself up with her hands and digging her knees into the bed for leverage. She leans forward and kisses Spencer hard, mirroring the pressure between her legs, and she catches Spencer’s pitiful moan with a smile against her lips. Aria kisses her deeper, relishing the delicious chapstick on her tongue, humming into Spencer’s mouth as she moves her hips, pushing and pulling, sliding easily in and out. 

Faster and faster she works, reaching a steady rhythm so forceful that the kiss becomes untenable, so Aria pulls back and hovers her face over Spencer’s to watch her, instead. Spencer’s big brown eyes are glistening, wanting and yearning, and Aria would dive in them and drown there, giving them everything they desire until it consumes her. After all, love is meant to be all-consuming. That's what love is.

Leaning all her weight onto one hand, she takes the other and grabs the knot of the tie, pulling Spencer up until their lips meet again. It’s a shorter kiss, and Aria breaks away after a moment so she can focus on her thrusts. Still, she holds the tie to keep Spencer close to her lips; she feels the jagged breaths against her face, tickling her sweat-kissed skin, and sees the way Spencer’s face flinches with painful pleasure. 

_“Yes,”_ Spencer pants, _“yes...yes….yes...”_

Aria increases her pace with every word, until she’s fucking Spencer so hard that she can no longer speak. Aria’s forced to release the tie to brace herself with both hands, but she jerks on Spencer’s hair to angle her chin back and rests her head against Spencer’s jawline. She closes her eyes and focuses all her energy on her hips, keeping up her strength and momentum just the way Spencer likes it. Aria can smell salt mixing with Spencer’s cologne on her neck, and she reaches forward and takes the skin in her teeth, biting down to release her own desire. The pained moan from Spencer fuels her to keep going, to keep fucking her, to keep pushing harder and harder against her walls until they come tumbling down.

Spencer feels the build as the tide rises within her, and she wants so badly to wrap her arms around Aria and cling to her for dear life, but she can’t. Everything is loud--the throbbing pulse in her ears, the pounding weight inside her core, the echoes of her whispers off Aria’s neck as they find their way out, screaming for more. She pushes her face against Aria’s, craving as much contact as possible, and paces her words on every other breath. 

“ _Please...yes...please...yes...yes...please…”_

Aria knows she’s close. Finding Spencer’s hair with her fingers, she pulls again and nudges her nose by Spencer’s ear. “That’s it, baby,” she says, never slowing down, “I want you to come for me. I know you can. I know you want to.”

 _“Yes,”_ Spencer pleads, _“yes...yes…”_

“Come for me,” Aria says again, stronger, and mirrors the force with her hips, hitting harder and deeper within Spencer again and again and again. “Come for me, Spencer.”

“Oh god...yes...yes…” Spencer cries as she feels it approaching.

Aria digs deep into the last reserve of her strength and pushes more, determined and fierce and unwavering. Spencer doesn’t often come this way, but goddamnit, it’s happening tonight. 

Her hands squeeze the sheets and pillow as she grits her teeth and tries to ignore the cramp building in her stomach and the dryness of dehydration in her throat. Nothing is going to stop her. “Come for me, Spencer,” she repeats. _“I said, come for me! Now!”_

The moaning in her ear gets louder, and she feels Spencer’s body tense underneath hers, so Aria keeps working, pushing and pumping and fucking her like their lives depend on it. And then the groan becomes a scream as Spencer’s body shudders, and Aria pushes her full weight in one last time and holds it there, pinning Spencer to the bed, and buries both hands in Spencer’s hair as she kisses her, deeply, passionately, holding their faces together. 

They both hum against the other’s lips, trying to kiss and cry and speak all at the same time. There is so much to say, yet they don’t have strength left for much. So instead, Aria lets herself relax and rest on Spencer’s body, tucking her face into Spencer’s neck, and sighing.

They stay like that for a minute, breathing and holding and taking each other in as the chemical rush fades away. Then, Aria tilts her face up and whispers, “Good girl,” into Spencer’s ear.

Spencer smiles and turns to meet her with a kiss. “Thank you, miss.”

With another heavy sigh of exhaustion, Aria pulls herself up and props her weight on her hands. “Game off?”

“Game off,” Spencer nods.

“Woo,” Aria says with an exhale. “Damn, that was fun.” Aria runs a hand through her hair and tucks it behind her ear, then tends to the matter of withdrawing herself from Spencer. “Ready for...?” and she points downward.

“Yeah.” Spencer braces herself for the sensation and scrunches her face as the toy slides out. “That is never not weird.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Aria slinks off the bed and unhooks the harness, letting it fall to the floor. “Man, this thing was totally pinching me on the side here. Remind me to wear something under it next time.”

“Okay.” Spencer watches from the bed, a little sad that things seem to be over already. “Did you not want me to reciprocate? It’s your birthday!” She thought surely she’d get to and can’t help but feel insecure. Was that really all Aria wanted? Spencer hopes Ariae got enough from her performance in the scene to be satisfied.

Aria picks the toy up and tosses her hair back. “I’m gonna go wash it,” she says with a smile. “I was hoping you would join me?”

Spencer mirrors the smile and swings her legs over the edge of the bed. “Don’t have to ask me twice.” She pulls the tie loose and throws it on the bed, then unbuttons her shirt and lets it fall to the floor, ruined, with her bra following close behind. 

Seven minutes later, she’s on her knees again with hot water running down her face as it’s buried between Aria’s legs. Aria has a hand on the wall-mounted soap dish, holding on for dear life as Spencer sucks hard on her clit with two fingers inside her. When Aria comes, shaking so hard her knee buckles, she manages to not slip and fall, which they both agree counts as a birthday win.

After drying off, somewhere between the closet and their venture to the kitchen for a meal, they get sidetracked and end up in bed again, wrapped in a loving embrace, brushing strands of hair from each other’s eyes as they share soft kisses. Spencer spends the next thirty minutes covering all of Aria’s favorite spots with more kisses, one for each year of her new age, until every inch is loved to the fullest. 

“Spencer?” Aria asks as her fiancée softly drags her lips across her left nipple.

“Hmm?”

She runs her fingers through Spencer’s hair as she continues her motions. “Can we do this every year?”

“Which part?” Spencer tugs on the soft skin with her teeth and then sucks hard for contrasting effect.

Aria hums in approval and smiles. “All of it.”

“Well,” Spencer says, only taking her lips away briefly when she needs to speak, “I think that means”--another soft bite--”we’re going to need”--and another--”to get me”--and another--”a new suit.”

Aria’s eyebrows raise. “We do? But I like that one. Or, wait, what am I saying? Yes to you in more suits.”

Spencer pauses her task and looks up incredulously. “Uh, we kind of destroyed that one. Or, specifically, you did.”

“What? I had you take the jacket off.”

“That’s hardly all of it!”

“But it’s the most expensive part.”

“Yeah, well,” Spencer says, “I guess I’ll just wear a jacket with nothing underneath it next year.”

“I wouldn’t complain if you did. Unless we’re going out.”

Smirking, Spencer reaches up and tweaks Aria’s nipple with a pinched twist. “That’s for ruining the rest of it. I spent like 20 minutes picking out that tie.”

“It’s a very good tie.” Aria smiles with a gleam of mischief in her eye. “Nice and strong.”

“Next time don’t use it as a thong when you sit on me.”

“We can dry clean it.”

Spencer balks, “I’m not taking a vagina-stained tie to the _dry cleaners_.”

“I’m sure they’ve seen worse.”

“Not from this household!”

Aria makes a face and offers, “At least I unhooked the suspenders right this time.”

“A vast improvement over last year.”

“See? No one nearly lost an eye. We’re two-for-two at avoiding the ER.”

Spencer leans her cheek against her hand, propping up her weight on her elbow. The sexiness of the moment is gone, but she’s winning this conversation by a mile, so she’s having fun either way. “Yes, thank you for not ripping them off me like a band-aid.”

“I learn from my mistakes.” Aria folds her hands behind her head and settles into the pillow again, mumbling, “unlike some people.”

“Good, then next year don’t stretch them out so much.”

Aria furrows her brow. “I didn’t pull _that_ hard.”

“‘Not that hard’? I’m surprised they didn’t break!”

“Then maybe you should buy better quality material.”

“They were eighty dollars!” Spencer says. “Now they’re like an eighty-dollar tape measure that won’t retract back into the housing.”

“You are such a nerd.”

“Should we talk about my shirt now?” Spencer huffs, without missing a beat. She’s not really angry, but it’s much too fun to pretend. “We could probably wring it out at this point. Before we throw it out, I mean.”

“Hey, not all of that is from me, Ms. Sweaty McSweatorson,” Aria says.

“Not that wringing it out would add any more wrinkles than there already are,” Spencer notes. 

“So, get an iron! Geez, if I’d known what a whiny baby you’d be about this, I would’ve had you strip down the second you walked in the door.”

“Maybe I should have,” Spencer says. “Maybe I’ll do that next year.”

“Maybe you should.” Aria’s trying very hard not to smile.

Spencer shifts her body down a few inches so her face is over Aria’s stomach, taking the bedspread with her as she goes. “Maybe there are a lot of things I should do next year.” She moves a bit further until she feels the familiar scratch of short trimmed hairs against her chin. 

“I agree,” Aria says. Her failing attempt to remain stone-faced and nonchalant is endearing.

“But not this.” Spencer shifts the rest of the way and centers herself between Aria’s legs. “You wouldn’t want this.” Before Aria can answer, Spencer moves her tongue along the edge of Aria’s delicate skin, not breaking eye contact.

 _“Nn nn_ , never,” Aria agrees. “Hate that.” Her legs spread further, making more room.

“Mmhmm,” Spencer hums, pushing her tongue in and finding new wetness.

Aria’s eyes fall closed as she loses herself in the feeling of Spencer’s mouth on her again. “You probably shouldn’t even do it now, that’s how much I hate it.”

“Oh, I know.” And with that, Spencer pulls Aria’s thighs to bring her body toward her mouth, reaching deeper inside, and begins the glorious work of bringing Aria to her second orgasm of the hour.

Eighteen minutes later, as they’re lying in the afterglow--Spencer’s cheek resting on Aria’s thigh as they both drift dangerously close to sleep--Aria reaches down and absently starts playing with Spencer’s hair again.

“Babe?”

“Hmm?” Spencer hums. She doesn’t want to open her eyes if she doesn’t have to. Everything is perfect right here.

“It’s almost ten.”

That doesn’t mean much to Spencer, so she just says, “Okay,” pleasantly.

“We forgot dinner,” Aria clarifies.

“I’m good,” Spencer says. “I already ate.”

It takes five and a half seconds for Aria to realize her meaning and thwack Spencer with a pillow. Spencer grabs it mid-air afterward, snatches it out of Aria’s hand, and curls up with it between her legs. 

“Happy birthday, baby,” Spencer says, smiling against Aria’s thigh.

With a dramatic sigh, Aria reaches over and grabs the far corner of the bedspread. She pulls it toward her, folding it over both of them, completely covering Spencer, and settles in contentedly for a well-earned rest. “Love you, too.”

**THE END**


	3. Blue

Aria tugs at Spencer’s earlobe with her teeth, just a soft nip, then finds her eyes again. “Let’s do blue.”

“Mmm, I was secretly hoping for that one,” Spencer says with a smile.

“I figured,” Aria chuckles. “And yet, I still think I’m gonna have the most fun tonight.”

“You wanna bet?” Spencer kisses her passionately, fingers once again squeezing tightly into the beautiful dress to hold the form within it.

A moment later, they break the kiss and Spencer asks, “Ready?”

“Oh yeah,” Aria agrees, hungry to get going. 

They stand hand in hand, facing each other, ready to recite the words they scripted years ago.

“I love you, and I respect you,” Aria says.

“I love you, and I respect you,” Spencer echoes.

“I promise to communicate clearly, and listen and obey what you communicate to me.”

Spencer squeezes Aria’s hand a little tighter. “I promise to communicate clearly, and listen and obey what you communicate to me.”

“I will honor your boundaries and limits, and follow the rules we have mutually agreed upon,” Aria says.

“I will honor your boundaries and limits, and follow the rules we have mutually agreed upon.” Just saying the words turns Spencer on; she knows what they lead to, what they mean is coming next.

“Shall we?” Aria asks.

Giving another glance to her incredible dress, Spencer replies, “Definitely.”

Aria’s eyes darken slightly as she says, “Game on.”

“Game on,” Spencer agrees.

Aria lets go of Spencer’s hands and takes hold of her chin instead, squeezing into Spencer’s jawline on both sides, possessively. “Tell me...Are you ready to be a good girl for me?” It isn’t a kind question, it’s a veiled threat.

Spencer steels her expression, actively avoiding Aria’s eyes, then shuts her own. Her role tonight is not to acquiesce. But Aria digs her thumbnail into Spencer’s skin, painfully, just below her lip, forcing a reaction. 

Spencer’s eyes open and her lips part slightly from the downward pressure of Aria’s thumb. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she sneers.

Faster than Spencer can blink, Aria releases her chin and pops her across the cheek with her palm. “Disrespectful little bitch. I guess you still haven’t learned who’s in charge here.”

Spencer laughs openly at that, saying, “Who, _you?”_ and Aria smacks her again, louder. It isn’t hard enough to leave a mark, but the stinging _zap_ gets Spencer’s attention all the same, and she lets it sit for a moment before turning to face forward again. She doesn’t know what’s more fun--getting under Aria’s skin, or the consequence.

Aria steps in closer, pressing her chest into Spencer’s coat and pushing her off balance. Spencer’s forced to take a step back but holds her ground, and Aria angles her face upward so her words will not be lost. “Get. On. Your fucking. Knees.”

Spencer hovers inches from Aria’s lips, watching them. “Make me.”

Rearing back, Aria slaps Spencer a third time without hesitation, then raises her voice. “I said _get on your fucking knees!”_ She reaches forward and grabs hold of the striped tie, pulling it out of the coat, and wraps her fist around the fine silk before yanking downward.

Spencer stumbles and drops awkwardly onto one knee, gasping, and glares up at her aggressor with spite in her eyes. They narrow, feigning contempt, and she starts to stand back up, but Aria holds her other hand on top of Spencer’s head to keep her there. 

“Don’t test me,” Aria warns. She releases the tie but keeps firm pressure on Spencer’s skull, digging fingernails into her scalp, hard. Further resistance will be painful.

Begrudgingly, Spencer lowers her other knee to the floor without breaking eye contact. 

“You _will_ do as I say,” Aria reminds her. “Or I promise you will regret it.” With the message delivered, she removes her hand and brings a finger to her lips, tapping it there, thinking. “Now take off that coat.”

“No.” Spencer says. “I’m cold.”

Another slap. “Does that warm you up?” She takes Spencer by the throat and leans in until their noses are almost touching. “Take off the coat or I’ll rip it apart and feed it to you.”

Spencer doesn’t seem impressed but moves into action anyway, undoing the buttons much more slowly than necessary. She opens the coat, watching for Aria’s reaction, because now the matching suspenders are visible, and Spencer knows that’s her weakness. But Aria just crosses her arms impatiently, waiting for her direction to be followed.

Spencer finally slides her arms out and folds the coat neatly in half, setting it down beside her. “I hope you don’t plan on having me down here long,” she says with a cheeky expression, like she knows something Aria doesn’t.

“Oh, you’ll sleep there tonight if I say so,” Aria reminds her without a hint of kindness in her eyes. “Or not sleep.”

“It’s just that these pants cost twice as much as that whorish dress you’re wearing, and I--”

The fifth slap knocks the smug right off Spencer’s face. She tongues gently at her cheek, which is glowing pink now and burns like hell. It feels good. Each strike has been more intense than the last, and if past evenings are precedent, they’re only going to keep getting stronger. (Once, Aria actually knocked Spencer clear off the bed. It was a good night.) 

“Careful,” Aria says. “You wouldn’t want to make me angry.”

Spencer looks up, through the hair fallen over her eyes, and huffs, “Is that it? I think you’re losing your touch.”

Aria picks up a foot and kicks Spencer squarely in the chest with the sole of her pristine Manolo Blahnik, and Spencer topples to the dining room floor with a cough, lying flat on her back. Aria approaches quickly and plants a foot on either side of Spencer’s head to keep her from getting up, standing on her hair, directly over Spencer’s face, with hands on her hips. Aria isn’t wearing anything under her dress, and she wants Spencer to know it.

“I knew that was a whore’s dress,” Spencer teases, grinning.

Stepping backward to deny her any more of the view, Aria repositions herself over Spencer’s chest, then presses the bottom of her shoe against Spencer’s chin, tilting her head back as far as it will go. The spike of the heel bores into her voice box, and Spencer smiles at the pain. She doesn’t fight it, just flattens her sweaty palms on the hardwood beside her and holds on for dear life. The angrier she makes Aria, the more fun this is.

But Aria looks the furthest thing from amused, peering down from her power position at her plaything. “Call me a whore again, Spencer,” she dares.

Gritting her teeth, Spencer fights to keep eye contact and forces the words out through her clamped jaw. “You’re _my_ whore.”

Wrong answer. 

Aria pushes harder until Spencer’s forced to turn her head to the side to relieve the pressure. She wastes no time in moving her shoe to Spencer’s tender cheek, still red from impact, and flattens the toe against Spencer’s temple so the spike of the heel aligns with her jaw bone. “Then why are you the one who’s getting fucked tonight?” She drags the heel down and around to underneath Spencer’s chin, holding her mouth closed as she tries to respond and fails. “That’s what I thought.”

Spencer struggles on principle and pushes back against the heel, just enough to hurt. She can’t wait to see how Aria’s going to fulfill this promise. “Careful,” she manages to eek out, “you push any harder and those cheap knockoff heels are definitely gonna break.”

Releasing Spencer’s face, Aria plants her foot on the other side of Spencer’s body again, straddling her, and leans down to grab her necktie. She wraps the silk around her fist twice, pulling Spencer up off the floor with it, bending at the waist. Spencer smiles, red-faced from her restricted air flow, and Aria slides the knot of the tie up even tighter around Spencer’s neck. “Well, maybe if my fiancée wasn’t such a lazy fucking brat, I could afford nicer things.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” Spencer’s voice strains against the tie. “No pun intended.”

Aria pushes Spencer away, releasing the tie so she abruptly falls to the floor, and walks back into the kitchen to pour herself another small glass of wine. She finishes it quickly with a sigh and returns, not worried that Spencer would get up, just annoyed at having to figure out what to do next with such a disobedient partner.

She leans down over Spencer and grabs her tie again, pulling it until they’re face to face. “Lesson one: If you don’t know how to shut your filthy mouth, I’m going to put it to work.” 

Enough backtalk. Aria heads for the nearest wall, dragging Spencer along with her by the throat, and leans against it for support. Spencer’s knees bang on the maple floor as she moves; Aria hopes they bruise. Releasing the tie, she takes hold of Spencer’s head and guides it between her legs, raising her dress a few inches to allow better access.

Adjusting her position on her tender knees, Spencer eagerly obliges and moves her face into the darkness under Aria’s dress. She can’t see, but it doesn’t matter. Her nose quickly meets soft, salty skin, and Spencer smiles at how wet Aria already is. Lifting one of Aria’s legs onto her shoulder to aid her entry, Spencer pushes her tongue between the slick folds like she’s done a hundred times before. Maybe it’s the dress, or the tinge of power, but somehow Aria tastes even more divine than usual. Spencer knows what she likes--long, firm, slow upward strokes starting as deep as Spencer can reach, ending in a teasing flick at the top, hungrily tasting every inch of her, worshipping her. 

As she goddamn well should.

Aria presses one hand flat against the wall for stability and holds Spencer’s shoulder with the other. Even at the obscured angle, Spencer’s doing all the right things, and Aria’s faux anger is rapidly melting away. Eyes firmly closed, she loses herself in the sensations but tries to retain control and stay in the game. Her knee is wobbling, try as she might to lock it, and it’s hard to hold still when Spencer’s moving with such skillful force, sucking and pulling her this way and that. She almost wishes Spencer didn’t know exactly how to bring about her undoing, if only so she could berate her for doing it wrong. But right now, those perfect tongue movements have her struggling to breathe, and it’s taking all her willpower to remain upright.

Aria can feel her clit swelling, desperate for attention, and she decides she will not be denied her pleasure. Not tonight. And especially not from a thirsty, well-trained bottom like Spencer Hastings. “Higher,” she commands.

But instead, Spencer focuses on teasing Aria’s entrance and presses her hands into the curves of Aria’s ass to reach deeper, humming happily at the wetness there. Aria clearly likes what she’s doing, and Spencer doesn’t want to reach the finish line any time soon. It’s selfish, and she knows it, but it gives her a rush to take control like this, even briefly, and if only because she’s not supposed to. Oxygen is scarce but Spencer speeds up her movements, very noticeably not where they are supposed to be.

It is simply unacceptable, and she knows it.

Aria opens her eyes, frustrated, and in doing so loses much of her momentum. She looks down to find the back of Spencer’s head stretching the fabric of her dress and pushes her hand hard against it, forcing Spencer in and upward. It’s sharp and disciplinary, undoubtedly uncomfortable, but should get her point across. “I said _higher_ , you stupid whore!” she yells at the face between her legs, much louder than necessary, then lets her eyelids fall closed again as she sighs. 

Training spoiled brats is such hard work.

Spencer feels Aria’s hand force her three inches upward, and she takes the hint, if only because she has no choice. Her lips brush against Aria’s clit, and she moves them slowly around it, teasing ever so softly. Then, without warning, she sucks hard, and Aria braces at the jolt. Spencer sets to work there, establishing steady rhythms with her tongue and applying almost enough pressure to bring satisfaction. She knows what Aria wants, but she isn’t going to just give it to her. That would take the fun out of it.

“Harder,” Aria orders, pressing her hand down. 

But Spencer only slows her pace to counteract the increased force. Anything to let Aria know who is really calling the shots. Slowly her tongue moves around and around, then back and down and up again, without rhythm or regularity. Spencer feels herself getting wetter from the rush of being so defiant, especially knowing Aria wants her to. She fucking loves the blue game.

“Faster!” Aria yells, so Spencer pulls back to use just the tip of her tongue in a rapid flicking motion with no strength behind it. This isn’t what Aria wants, either.

Groaning in frustration, Aria slaps the wall in anger and removes her leg from Spencer’s shoulder, kicking her over. “God _damn_ it,” she spits, as Spencer blinks awkwardly at the sudden burst of daylight. Aria considers the suspenders but instead grabs a large fistful of Spencer’s hair and begins dragging her away. She wants escape to be impossible.

Spencer cries out in pain and struggles to get to her feet, slipping on the floor as she stumbles and kicks (and probably scuffs their beautiful floors with her new shoes). “Ow! Hey! Whoa!”

But Aria isn’t deterred. She holds on tightly as they cross the living room into the main hallway, traveling twenty long feet to the master bedroom. “Maybe you should’ve fucking done what you were told.”

“Let me go!” Spencer shouts, trying to pull herself free without making the pain worse. Though, really, this is exactly what she wanted.

When they reach their destination, Aria hurls Spencer onto the bed and finally releases her hold. Spencer’s hair is a mess, and her shirt has come mostly untucked, but the look still works, perhaps even more so now. Less uptight, more dangerous.

Spencer rolls over to look at her and touches her sensitive scalp, wincing. “Jesus. You could’ve just asked nicely. You didn’t have to rip my hair out like a third grade bully.”

Aria crosses her arms and steps toward the bed with danger blazing in her eyes again. “Clearly, I did. Do you think I was even gonna get _close_ with that laziness out there?” She points back toward the dining room. “And here I thought you were smarter than this.” 

“Well, now that we’re here and all, I’m happy to give it another go. I’m sure I’ll eventually get the hang of it.” Spencer’s mocking tone makes Aria’s blood boil, and the triumphant look in her eyes isn’t helping. “But something did seem a little off? Kind of bitter, I guess?” She holds a hand up and gestures with it. “Maybe all this anger making its way down, you know? Kinda sour tasting. But I guess I’ll just power through it.”

Spencer waits for the slap she so rightfully deserves, her cheek tingling with anticipation. But Aria just stares her down, eyes narrowed, deciding what punishment such rudeness warrants. It has to hurt, she thinks, just maybe not physically. It has to be memorable.

After a moment she walks to the bedside drawer and takes out two black Velcro wrist cuffs, already sized to fit Spencer perfectly. 

“You have 30 seconds to remove your clothes,” Aria says calmly, “or I'll get the scissors and make you cut them off.”

Spencer rolls her eyes and pulls the tie loose as she kicks off her shoes. “This suit cost more than your last book advance, but whatever.” She unhooks the suspenders next, then unbuttons the shirt, and tosses them all onto a nearby chair one piece at a time. “So much for foreplay, huh?” she says, unzipping the slacks and sliding them off. “You’re, what, just gonna strap me down and yell at me until you come? Gee, sounds amazing.”

She’s watching the trajectory of the pants as they land on the chair and doesn’t see Aria stepping toward the bed, but Spencer does feel the sudden strike across her face the moment she turns back around. It catches her off-guard, and she lets out a small laugh, processing the surprise blow. 

“Something like that,” Aria agrees. “Lie down or I’ll do it again.”

Spencer slowly crawls backward until her head reaches the pillows, never taking her eyes off Aria or dropping her smirk.

“Hands,” Aria says, and Spencer complies, extending her arms toward the sides of the bed. Aria wraps the cuff around Spencer’s left wrist and hooks it to a long bungee cord that they leave running under their bed. (They figured out months ago how to work around not having bedposts. It was a cheap and simple solution, and felt very lesbian of them.) Aria then crosses to the other side and cuffs Spencer’s other wrist, hooking it in a bit more forcibly than the first. “You won’t be needing these tonight. They’re worthless to me anyway.”

Spencer’s pulse is racing, wondering what Aria has in store for her, but knows she needs to keep up the act and not ask. “Think we could hurry this along a bit? I’ve already missed round one of Jeopardy.” 

“Ohh,” Aria laughs low, shaking her head like Spencer’s about to regret saying that. “You’re the one in jeopardy, you stupid slut.” She walks back to the nightstand and digs in the drawer as Spencer looks on, curiously. Aria pulls out a small white box, and Spencer recognizes it immediately. Her reaction is visceral distaste, wanting nothing to do with it. Aria bought the toy for herself as a pleasure item, only to discover it was much more fun to punish Spencer with it.

Aria withdraws the item inside--a black nylon strap with adjustable clips, and, in the center, a leather flap housing a one inch cock, all painted black to match.

“I don’t think we need that,” Spencer protests, and she means it. She’d rather have a dirty sock shoved in her mouth than that thing. Almost.

“Oh, I think you’ve demonstrated that we definitely do.” Aria steps to the edge of the bed and leans over. “Time to shut the fuck up.”

Spencer turns away and jerks her body, trying to escape what she knows is coming, but there’s nowhere to go. Aria climbs onto the bed to get a better angle, scooting forward on her knees, high heels still on, and straddles Spencer to sit on her stomach. With a clamping hold, Aria jabs her finger and thumb into Spencer’s cheeks, forcing her mouth open.

“What’s my favorite color?” Aria asks. 

It’s their safety check-in, a chance for Spencer to weigh in on consent without breaking character. They use a basic stoplight system, easy enough to remember.

“Green,” she says, actively consenting to the gag, because it’s Aria’s birthday and true love takes many forms. “But maybe instead of putting a fake dick in my mouth, you should be thinking about how you’re gonna walk on the bed in those fancy-ass shoes. Not that I wouldn’t laugh if you fell, I just might get hungry before you come to. Hey, are we out of focaccia?”

Aria’s expression darkens, and she latches a hand to Spencer’s throat this time, staring her down threateningly. She tightens her hold, not enough to suffocate her but enough to scare Spencer into thinking she might. She loves being goaded like this, loves having an excuse to let her inner villain out of the locked box, and she loves unleashing it on Spencer--the only person Aria feels safe revealing this secret side to. She knows Spencer understands what it is and what it isn’t, just like she understands the same about her. 

Aria shoves the cock into Spencer’s mouth without further delay, then locks the clasp on the strap behind her head. It was one of Aria’s better purchases in the last year, and she loves the sight of Spencer bound and gagged and helpless before her. Spencer wouldn’t suck a real cock if her life depended on it, but is now forced to endure this one at Aria’s whim and without respite, and that gives Aria unspeakable pleasure. It’s quite small, more like a pacifier than a choking hazard, but it does anything but pacify Spencer, and Aria loves to see her squirm. Watching her fiancée struggle in vain to evict it, groaning in utter frustration, is only making Aria wetter. 

“There, that’s better,” she says sweetly, brushing the hair off Spencer’s forehead and easing her choking grip by a notch. “You know, I’ve always believed you could be anything in life if you just put your best effort into it.” She drags a fingertip down Spencer’s jawline and pushes on the back of the leather flap, urging it further inside. “Even a cocksucking whore.”

Spencer thrashes, screaming into her muzzle, desperate to disagree, but she can’t dislodge it from her lips. In truth, it’s really not so bad, and the chemical silicone taste is familiar to her tongue now. But she sees how much Aria is loving this, so she continues to play it up, kicking and twisting until Aria is forced to remove one of her shoes and press the heel into Spencer’s chest about three inches below the hand still holding Spencer’s throat. 

Aria pushes the spike hard, denting the tender skin and holding it there, and watches Spencer’s eyes go wide. “Do I have your attention?”

_“Mmhmm,”_ Spencer nods fearfully.

Aria leans in closer, allowing gravity to add weight to her choking hand, until her lips are almost brushing Spencer’s nose. Aria stares deep into Spencer, looming large to convey her power. But instead of speaking, Aria drags her tongue from the tip of Spencer’s nose upward, moving slowly, until she reaches the bridge and pulls away. She’s marking Spencer, claiming her, and laughing at her. 

Spencer jerks and kicks her feet again to no avail, and moans in disgust at now being uncomfortably wet in _two_ places. Aria’s act makes her feel weak, makes her feel dirty, makes her feel used, even dehumanized, but she loves it. Aria is incredibly sexy when she’s owning her full power, and Spencer is more than happy to make herself smaller as a contribution. It’s a goddamn thrill, honestly.

“Good.” Aria drags the heel lower, not letting up the pressure, and it scrapes a line into Spencer’s chest as it goes. When it reaches her bra, Aria hooks it under and lifts, stretching the elastic as far out as she can, inch by intimidating inch. Spencer’s heart pounds, hoping it’s just a bluff. But when it won’t give any more, Aria lets go, and the strap pops down hard against the bare skin with a _smack_. Spencer moans at the sting and turns away, eyes closed, and Aria smiles. “Oops.”

Releasing Spencer’s throat, Aria unhooks the front clasp on the bra and opens it, exposing Spencer’s breasts, then palms them, softly stroking the nipples with her thumbs. “You’re so beautiful,” she says, watching the skin move slowly back and forth, captivated. It’s a gentle comment, sincere, almost out of character. “What do you think our friends would say if they knew you were such a sloppy, whiny, lazy, ungrateful, desperate, bottom _bitch?”_

Instantly, Aria takes both nipples between her thumbs and fingers, pinching hard and twisting as Spencer bucks and arches her back, making more muffled noises. “You like that, don’t you?”

Spencer does, and feigns protest accordingly. Each pang of pain is just making her wetter, and she hopes Aria’s going to fuck her soon. All this suppression will just make the release even sweeter.

“I can give you more,” Aria says, “or you can snap out of it.”

It’s a reminder of the nonverbal safeword, since Spencer’s voice is silenced. She can snap her fingers at any time, and Aria will stop, red light. They both remember the rules. So, Spencer shakes her head no, which seems the correct response--she’s not bailing, and she wants to fight against Aria’s plan just on principle. She adds a kick for good measure, squirming under Aria’s weight, trying so hard to knock her off balance. 

God, she relishes playing this part.

But Aria releases Spencer’s nipples and slaps her instead. It’d been too long. “You continue to be a disappointment.” Then, Aria tosses her shoes off the bed (much to Spencer’s chagrin) and slinks off Spencer, back to the drawer in the nightstand to continue rummaging for useful items.

After a moment, she finds two small silver pieces and sets them out, bringing a concerned noise from Spencer as Aria keeps digging. “Can’t even shut up with a goddamn dick in your mouth,” she mutters without looking over. “Guess you just like it too much.”

Pushing aside more supplies, Aria finds what she’s seeking--a high-quality black harness and her favorite turquoise dildo. It’s only six inches, plenty to fill her smaller frame, but it’s wider in girth than most toys this size. Even as wet as she is right now, it will stretch her to her limit. The good kind of hurt. 

And that’s what tonight is all about.

“I’d ask you to unzip me, but you seem indisposed,” Aria says, turning back to face Spencer, who just raises a sassy eyebrow. 

Aria reaches behind her, unhooking the dress at the top and then dragging the zipper down. It drops to the floor slowly, catching every curve on its way down, revealing Aria’s toned, gorgeous naked body one inch at a time. Aria watches Spencer watching it fall; her eyes linger on Aria’s breasts, then trail down her flat stomach to the freshly trimmed hairs below, hiding nothing.

Spencer’s lips tighten around the mouth gag in response and her legs push together, desperate for contact where she needs it most. The lingering taste of Aria is fading from her tongue, replaced by this vile tool of the patriarchy, and Spencer whimpers, longing to get her mouth back where it belongs.

But that won’t be happening, and she knows it.

Aria picks up her toys and moves to the end of the bed, setting them down so she can hold Spencer still as she crawls up. Their eyes lock as she moves, hovering low, until her face is inches from the wet heat between Spencer’s legs. Aria can smell the salt and want; it’s intoxicating. But still she continues forward, bypassing that opportunity for another. She sits on Spencer’s stomach, knees against the bed on either side of her, and examines her prey once more. 

“I don’t think you’ve been properly motivated to perform this evening,” she observes. Aria takes one of the two small silver clamps in hand and attaches it to Spencer’s left nipple. Spencer bucks again at the pain, held down by Aria’s weight, but does not snap her fingers, so Aria proceeds. “So,” she says as she attaches the second clamp, “I guess I’ll have to do everything myself.” 

Spencer jerks again at the harsh pinch, groaning louder against her gag and shaking her head back and forth. 

Aria finds her eyes, momentarily concerned--something’s wrong, she can tell. “Red?”

Spencer indicates no but still appears troubled.

“Yellow?”

Spencer nods, and Aria looks down at her last move, undoing the right clamp. She repositions it at a different angle, more mindful of its placement on the tender, pink skin, and checks the left one to mirror it. “Better?” Her tone is sweet, almost overly so.

Spencer nods again, closing her eyes, and hums two sounds, a muffled, _“Aank ooo.”_

The sweetness drains from Aria’s face as she slaps Spencer out of complacency yet again. “Don’t _thank_ me, you pussy,” she spits. “You were supposed to be pleasuring _me_ tonight. It’s _my_ fucking birthday! But I guess that was too much trouble for you, wasn’t it.” Aria takes hold of the small metal hinges and turns them ninety degrees, watching Spencer’s face clench. “You call yourself a bottom and you can’t even handle a five-dollar nipple clamp.” She lets go. “I should get my money back.” 

If Spencer could stick her tongue out at Aria right now, she would. She opts to bite down on the cock instead, hoping it’ll leave a permanent mark.

Aria reaches behind her and picks up the harness from the end of the bed, then starts to slip Spencer’s foot through it. It’s much like a rock climbing get-up, in that it has a loop for each leg, and Spencer kicks and resists in the hopes that Aria will strike her on the thigh. It works.

“Hold still!” Aria shouts and smacks her again, then grabs Spencer’s other foot and pushes it through. She shimmies the harness up Spencer’s body until it reaches her core, then Aria pulls the strap as tight as she can. She hopes it hurts a little.

The thick turquoise silicone sits atop Spencer’s pelvis like a beautiful dare, one that Aria is all too hungry to take on. Holding eye contact with Spencer, she leans down and opens her mouth right in front of it, but she doesn’t take it in--she drags her tongue from the base to the tip in a single long, wide stroke.

Spencer trembles from the sight of it, fighting to keep her eyes open, and bites down harder. The contact against her body isn’t enough, not nearly, and she doesn’t know if Aria’s plan is just to tease her until she passes out from sensory overload. It would probably work.

Hovering her lips over the large tip, Aria watches Spencer intently and holds her thighs down with her hands. Spencer’s trying to push the toy into Aria’s mouth, but she won’t allow it, just teases the very notion of it and grins sinfully.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Aria asks, and Spencer whimpers again, nodding, well aware of the desired pressure that contact would deliver. (The visual would not be wasted, either.) Instead, Aria sits up and shrugs. “But I’m not the cocksucker in this house. You are.”

Spencer’s eyes fall closed as she huffs in frustration and struggles against Aria’s hands, jerking her own against the cuffs and grunting. It’s her job in the blue game to be the brat, but Aria is showing her how it’s done. It’s goddamn annoying.

And Spencer loves it.

Just when she thinks Aria might leave her there, bound and gagged, to go watch Hoarders alone in the living room, Aria scoots forward to do something new. She pins Spencer with her knees now and rubs her clit against the toy--slowly, purposefully, teasing--holding it in place with a hand and arching her back, chin toward the ceiling. It’s masterful.

Spencer lets out a high-pitched noise, helplessly locked in a trance at the sight of it--Aria’s flawless body, chest out toward Spencer, hips moving in circular motions like a dance, and Aria’s other hand running through her hair and down her front, between her breasts and over her stomach until it meets the other. Spencer tries to push upward to meet Aria with pressure, but she can’t. Aria’s putting on a show for her, displaying her perfection and everything Spencer’s missing, everything that Spencer could be touching and tasting if she hadn’t been such a little undeserving shit. 

Aria knows exactly what she’s doing.

“I think I’m probably wet enough,” she says. “No thanks to you.” Shifting her body forward, Aria sets her knees down on the bed, drawing Spencer’s legs together, then centers herself on top of the toy and slowly tests it. She winces with eyes closed but is smiling. _“Fuck_ , I love how big this is.” 

Inch by inch, Aria lowers her body, gradually taking it in, her mouth opening wider and wider as it goes. A gasp becomes a high-pitched moan as it fills her core, and Spencer doesn’t know where to watch--the pained euphoria on Aria’s face, or the turquoise disappearing between her legs. 

When it’s all inside, Aria holds on to Spencer’s sides for support and throws her head back, releasing a long moan of pleasure. _“Ohhh my godddd.”_ She lifts her body an inch or two and inhales in a hiss, squinting again at the sensations. “Fuck!” Digging her nails into Spencer’s skin, Aria lowers herself again and exhales, then straightens her back to maximize the intake. 

Spencer tugs at the wrist cuffs again and mumbles incoherently around the gag. It’s killing her to not be a part of this, to not be able to sit up and throw her arms around Aria, holding her in a passionate kiss while she fucks her, or--even better--for Aria to fuck her instead. But instead, Spencer gets neither of those things. She is a participant here as much as a table participates in a meal. She misses the taste of Aria in her mouth. The silicone only tastes worse the longer she rage-chews on it. She’d much rather be the silicone sliding in and out of Aria Montgomery right now.

Up and down, up and down, up and down she moves, gradually gaining momentum as her body adjusts and the friction lessens. Her fingernails are leaving marks in Spencer’s sides, as they have countless times before, but neither girl cares. As her pace quickens, Aria lets gravity assist her movement, dropping her weight down onto Spencer harder and harder and harder. She relishes the forceful pounding deep inside her, delights in the painful stretching of her most sensitive skin, grins at the feeling of her wetness increasing by the minute. 

Aria fucking loves fucking. And Spencer fucking loves Aria.

It takes all of Spencer’s focus to keep quiet. The pulse pounding in her ears, the staggered sound of her breathing, the humming of her pleas, it’s all distracting her from the symphony of Aria’s performance--the slapping of her wet skin against the harness, the steady rhythm mirrored by her bouncing breasts, blending with the primal sounds escaping Aria’s open mouth, long low notes and pinched high ones. It’s all beautiful music to Spencer.

Then Aria slows her pace, pushing down hard as if desperate to take in even more inches that aren’t there, and grinds her hips around, savoring the feeling. “Fuck, this feels so good,” she whispers, eyes closed. It’s like she’s the only one in the room, and Spencer hums loudly for attention but receives none. 

Aria lets go of Spencer’s sides, paying no mind to the ten purple crescents now cut into reddened skin, and Spencer inhales sharply at the change. Aria moves her right hand to her clit and begins working there, rapidly back and forth, as she restarts her vertical movement. It’s a struggle to maintain balance, and she knows she needs support for leverage, _now_ , opting to fall forward and plant her free hand on Spencer’s chest. 

It feels more like a stake to the heart. Spencer coughs around the gag as she catches Aria’s weight, now pinned more tightly to the bed. Aria’s hair is falling around her face, tickling Spencer’s chin as it bounces with her rhythm. Her mouth is open to aid her breathing as she fucks herself, grinding hard, pushing herself up and slamming down as firmly as she can in steady time, while fighting to remain focused. She won’t open her eyes--she can’t give Spencer the satisfaction, not in blue mode--but Aria’s thinking about her. 

Spencer, bound and gagged and helpless, _powerless_.

Spencer, sweaty and wet and maybe even crying in desperation to touch her.

Spencer, firmly sucking on her clit, lips and tongue moving fast and hard just the way she likes it, sliding three fingers in and out of her with ease, fucking her to make her come.

Spencer is all of these things at once, and Aria clings to the visions and sensations of the fantasy with her entire being. This will be a birthday orgasm to remember.

Only, the real Spencer inches below her won’t shut the hell up, so Aria slides her left hand forward to Spencer’s throat and rests it there. It’s still supporting her weight as she bounces, and Spencer’s breathing much faster now--she can feel it, along with the racing pulse under her thumb. Aria squeezes ever so slowly while increasing her back-and-forth pace, and the rush of power sends her closer and closer. 

Tighter and faster she goes, tighter and faster, tighter and faster, until she’s choking Spencer properly, and Aria slams her body down hard on the toy and stays there, holding still to focus on what matters more. Her left hand relaxes and slides around the side of Spencer’s throat until her fingers find thick strands of hair. Aria weaves her fingers in, taking hold and pulling hard, and clamps down again on the front of Spencer’s neck. The noise Spencer makes--strained, pitiful, aching pleasure--brings the oncoming rush as Aria pushes her movements to her breaking point. 

Spencer could watch Aria come over and over every day and never tire of it. The way her face muscles tighten and lift, her unique and beautiful sound, the overall glow of her body afterward, glistening in sweat and desire. It’s magnificent. And Spencer will forever have a front row seat.

_“Fuck...fuck!”_ Aria cries out as she feels the crashing wave knock her down. She squeezes Spencer’s throat as she rides it, leaning hard and clenching the toy inside with her entire body as her right hand draws out every stroke for maximum release. The chemical rush lasts thirty seconds, but it’s over a minute before Aria’s movements slow to a complete stop and she takes a steadying breath.

Finally opening her eyes, Aria sighs deeply and removes both her hands from their stations, using them instead to lean on the bedspread as she carefully slides up and off the toy. She doesn’t look at Spencer or acknowledge her at all, just steps down from the bed and walks immediately into the shower. 

Spencer hears the water running and shouts to the best of her ability, still muzzled with this fucking bullshit, but receives no reply. There’s the familiar sound of the shower head turning on, then the glass door sliding open, and Aria steps inside and doesn’t return. 

Spencer can’t believe it. She’s naked, gagged, and clamped, dripping with sweat (and other things), her left leg is falling asleep from reduced circulation, her nose itches, her stomach wounds hurt, her wrists are tender, she’s dry with thirst, she has to pee, and worst of all, she’s so unbelievably horny, she could die. And Aria just left her here.

Eleven long and boring minutes later, Aria emerges wearing only a towel around her head and reenters the bedroom to find a very annoyed Spencer.

“I’m gonna go order dinner,” Aria says casually, putting in some stud earrings as she crosses over to the hallway, stark naked.

Spencer flails against the restraints and shouts out again, but Aria just walks away.

Five seconds later, she returns. “Just kidding.” She walks over to the bed and stops at the edge, smiling at Spencer. “Game off?”

Spencer nods and concurs. _“Aaay ahhhh.”_

Aria undoes the mouth gag first, carefully withdrawing it, and frowns as trails of saliva drip onto Spencer’s chin and chest. “Ew,” she laughs.

“Jesus _christ_ ,” Spencer says as she stretches her mouth and jaw. “Next time give a girl a bathroom break before you tie her up.”

Aria’s eyes widen, realizing her mistake. “Oops?” 

She quickly undoes Spencer’s left cuff, freeing her to open the other herself. Spencer quickly jumps down from the bed, throwing the nipple clamps on the nightstand and awkwardly trying to undo the harness as she goes.

“It’s a clip in the back,” Aria reminds her, then takes the gag to the sink to wash it. She examines it for a moment, frowning. “Are these teeth marks?!”

“Yup,” Spencer calls out from the bathroom, over the sound of her task. “Chomp, chomp, motherfucker.”

Aria shakes her head, smiling as she examines the damage. “God, you are such a brat!”

Spencer flushes and emerges, holding out the harness and toy for Aria, then dropping it to the floor at the last second. “I know, right?”

Aria just manages to reach Spencer’s ass for a punitive smack as she walks away. “This cost forty dollars!”

“Then you probably shouldn’t put it in my mouth,” Spencer says playfully, climbing back on the bed. “Come on, birthday girl. Wash later.”

Aria can’t say no to that, so she sets the chewed up dick on the counter and removes her towel, letting it fall to the floor by the harness as she shakes out her hair.

“Hey!” Spencer cries out. “No wet towels on the floor!” 

“Sorry,” Aria says, dripping with water and sarcasm, then turns and goes back to get it, throwing it onto the counter. “Guess I took that gag out too soon,” she mutters.

“Ha.” Spencer adjusts her position on the bed to make room for the slob in question. “I have proven I will put up with a lot of crap from you, but I have my limits.”

Aria pulls herself onto the bed and snuggles under the covers beside Spencer. “Nipple clamps: yes; floor towels: no.”

Spencer slips into her normal position as the big spoon, being the taller one and all, and drapes an arm across Aria. “Seems reasonable.” Her tender skin feels good against Aria’s back, and Aria’s freshly washed hair smells of mango. Spencer hooks her ankle over Aria’s and pulls her closer. “Maybe we should work that into our vows.”

Aria’s eyes widen. “Only if we uninvite everyone we’ve ever met.”

“I think they’d understand.”

Spencer buries her face in Aria’s hair and closes her eyes contentedly. She can almost forget how goddamn horny she still is, what with how nice it is to have the ability to speak and move again. “Happy birthday, baby,” she says, squeezing Aria tightly.

“Mmm, thank you. It’s been a good one.”

“I’m glad.”

Aria tilts her head back toward Spencer. “Good for you, too?”

“Yeah, in that really annoying way where you drive me crazy,” she smiles. “But yes, very good.” She brushes the hair off Aria’s forehead and kisses her temple, then presses her cheek against Aria’s hair and rests her weight there for a moment. “God, it is _really_ fun being a bitch to you.”

Aria’s voice drops in faux annoyance. “I noticed.”

“You love it,” she teases. “You picked it!”

“Yeah,” Aria says, “why’d I do that, again?”

“Because blue mode is your favorite. You do love a good slap.”

“Mmm, I think _you_ love a good slap.”

Spencer chuckles; she isn’t wrong. “Your timing has gotten really solid, by the way. You _got_ me on a few of those.”

“Thank you!” Aria beams. “Sorry again about the clamp thing.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Spencer shakes it off. “It was doing a weird pinching thing, but you fixed it. Good check-in.”

“Like, different from the pinching thing it’s supposed to do?”

“Yeah, it was just at a weird angle. But now we know.”

“Now we know,” Aria agrees. “And you’re still good with all the name-calling stuff? I don’t wanna get too crazy with it if that takes it to a bad place. Makes me feel like a bad feminist or something.”

“Well, Gloria Steinem called and said to keep it up, because it makes your fiancée very wet.”

“So noted,” Aria says, pleasantly surprised. “I always knew you were a bottom.”

Spencer laughs. “We met when we were, like, twelve. That’s gross.”

“No, I just mean, like, when we were first getting together. It was obvious. You just had that energy.”

“I did not,” Spencer says. “And I don’t think Big Bottom Energy is even a thing.”

“Oh, it’s _definitely_ a thing. And you have it.”

“I do not!”

“You really do.”

Spencer makes her best Grumpy Cat frown, and Aria laughs and gives her a peck on the lips.

“Don’t be upset. It means we get to do fun stuff like this.” Aria kisses Spencer, deeply, and moves a hand to Spencer’s throat again, placing it gently but firmly and holding it there. Breaking her lips away, Aria whispers against Spencer’s mouth, _“And I love making you my little bitch.”_

“Good,” Spencer grins, and kisses her again, stronger. 

Their hands find each other’s bodies and they pull close once more, legs sliding together as Aria naturally leans her body atop Spencer’s. But after a brief moment of kissing, she pulls away, thinking. “And now I’m having a vision of you wearing that suit again and bringing me dinner in bed.”

“You are?” Spencer blinks. She really liked where all the kissing was heading. And it wasn’t back to the kitchen. “You’re not having visions of, say, me having an orgasm? Like sixty seconds from now?”

“Not really, no. It is a _ver_ y good suit.”

“Oh, I know; I bought it,” Spencer says. “Why are we eating in bed?”

Aria feigns confusion. “‘We’?”

She blinks again. “Do I not get dinner in this scenario? Or to BE the dinner in this scenario?”

“Oh, you can do what you want, I just know that fifteen minutes from now you’ll be bringing me blueberry pancakes in a thousand dollar suit.”

“Is that so?” Spencer laughs.

“Seems appropriate,” Aria shrugs. “It’s a blue kind of evening.”

“So it is,” Spencer hums, and kisses her again, then drags herself out from under the covers with a dramatic sigh. It’s cold out here, and she really wants to get back to the possible orgasm, but she isn’t about to say no to the birthday girl--at least not anymore. She grabs the shirt, tie, and suspenders off the chair in the corner, finds her bra on the floor, and heads for the hall, muttering, “Blueberries for you, blue balls for me.”

“What was that?”

Spencer looks back, innocently. “Blueberry pancakes coming right up,” then adds, “Miss.” She bows with a smirk, extending an arm all fancy-like. 

“Oh, and whipped cream?”

“Duh,” she says. “I’m not a monster.”

“Love you,” Aria smiles.

“You, too.”

Fourteen and a half minutes later, dressed once again in her very wrinkled suit, Spencer brings a tray of four blueberry pancakes with whipped cream and a glass of chilled white wine to the love of her life. Aria’s taste buds spend six minutes enjoying the pancakes, then forty-six minutes enjoying Spencer, in what proves to be, hands down, the best birthday she’s ever had.

**THE END**


	4. Black

Aria tugs at Spencer’s earlobe with her teeth, just a soft nip, then finds her eyes again. “Let’s do black.”

“Mmm,” Spencer says with a smile, “I was secretly hoping for that.”

Aria looks pleasantly surprised. “Oh yeah?” 

“You’re cute when you think you can break me.” A smile creeps across Spencer’s face. It’s fun messing with her like this, and Spencer knows it will pay dividends later.

Aria laughs softly, “Is that right?”

“It’s adorable.” Spencer kisses her, but Aria pulls away to argue, clearly unsettled by this revelation. 

“I’m gonna have to step up my game.”

Spencer squeezes her hands into the soft fabric clinging to Aria’s ass and brings her an inch closer. “Do your worst.”

“Oh, yes ma’am,” Aria agrees, hungry to get going. “Let’s do this.”

They stand hand in hand, facing each other, ready to recite the words they scripted years ago.

“I love you, and I respect you,” Aria says.

“I love you, and I respect you,” Spencer echoes.

“I promise to communicate clearly, and listen and obey what you communicate to me.”

Spencer squeezes Aria’s hand a little tighter. “I promise to communicate clearly, and listen and obey what you communicate to me.”

“I will honor your boundaries and limits, and follow the rules we have mutually agreed upon,” Aria says.

“I will honor your boundaries and limits, and follow the rules we have mutually agreed upon.” Just saying the words turns Spencer on; she knows what they lead to, what they mean is coming next.

“I’m listening for stoplights, safeword, and snaps,” Aria clarifies. “‘No’ means ‘yes’ this time.”

“Yep,” Spencer agrees. “I remember.”

“Shall we?” Aria asks.

Giving another glance to her incredible dress, Spencer replies, “Definitely.”

Aria’s eyes darken slightly as she says, “Game on.”

“Game on,” Spencer agrees.

Aria lets go of Spencer’s hands and takes a step backward, closing her eyes. When she opens them, it’s as if she’s someone new, or perhaps Spencer is. Aria looks her up and down like she’s a stranger. “Well,” she says. “What do we have here?”

Spencer holds her hands at her sides, stiff as a board, and stares at the floor, trembling nervously.

Aria begins pacing slowly around her like a lion closing in on its prey. She examines every side and angle of Spencer’s outfit, leaning in to smell her hair as she crosses behind her, which only makes Spencer tense up more. As she completes her circle, Aria trains her eyes on the expensive threads her fiancée is wearing.

“Is this supposed to impress me?” It clearly doesn’t.

“I…” Spencer starts, almost making eye contact but deciding better of it. “Do you like it?”

Aria steps in closer, curious. She takes the lapel of Spencer’s jacket in her hand, sliding her fingers along the edges. “Did you buy it for me?”

“Not…” she starts, but then settles on, “It’s for work.”

Aria’s eyebrows rise and fall with a sigh, disappointed thus far with her new charge. She turns away, pacing into the kitchen to put some distance between them. “So, you’re lazy and cheap, and can’t even tell a convincing lie. Not a promising start.”

“No!” she protests, but at the stern look from Aria, Spencer drops her eyes to the floor again. “It’s the nicest thing I have. I thought you would like it.”

Aria sighs again. “I guess that’s something. Pathetic,” she emphasizes, “but something.” She leans back against the counter, crossing her arms and tossing back her hair. “Tell me why you’re here....” she says, prompting with a hand for the girl’s name.

“Spencer.”

“Bit of a silly name.” But she isn’t laughing. Not even close.

“I…” she stumbles, forgetting everything she learned in her ninth grade acting class. “I think you’re really pretty.”

“Liar,” Aria says, without hesitation. 

Spencer looks up at this, upset. “I do! You’re beautiful.” But Aria’s expression only hardens, and she looks down again, embarrassed.

“And what,” Aria asks, “you thought you’d show up at my door and ask me out to coffee? That’s almost cute. You’re either very brave or very stupid.”

Spencer closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, really committing to this act. “I thought you might help me,” she begins, cautiously. “My friend Emily said you could, that you were really good at...helping people.”

Aria’s eyebrows rise in disbelief as she scoffs, “Are you asking me for _money?_ Get the fuck out of my house.”

“No!” she pleads. “I’m not…” Spencer’s really leaning into this insecurity act. It’s deliciously fun. “What I mean is I’ve never…. _you know_...and I heard you could help me...do that.”

“Have sex?” Aria asks plainly, and Spencer winces. Aria huffs a small laugh and relaxes, enjoying the power trip a little too much. She pours herself another glass of white wine and sips at it, taking her sweet time. “I don’t think you’re ready for that. If you can’t say it, you shouldn’t do it.”

“I’ve had sex,” Spencer says, trying to make her voice a little stronger. She’s still averting Aria’s eyes, talking to her knees instead “My boyfriend and I have done it seven times.”

“Wow,” Aria patronizes, taking another sip. “Seven whole times? Must be true love.”

“But I’ve never…” Her eyes close. “You know.”

“Sucked his cock?” Aria asks.

“No!” Spencer looks away, face beet red. But she doesn’t have to pretend to be embarrassed this time; she’s far too gay to consider doing that for real. Fake Spencer, though, probably wasn’t strong enough to say no. “I mean, I did one time, but that’s not what…” She sighs heavily and tilts her head back, not opening her eyes. “I’ve never...had an orgasm.” Her face falls again, chin dropping against her Windsor knot.

Aria considers this. “And your friend Emily said I could make that happen for you.”

Spencer nods, head still down.

“I guess my reputation precedes me.” Aria takes another sip of wine. “And what do I get in return?”

Spencer’s eyes open and her head lifts slightly, as if she’s only just considering this for the first time. “Um. Do you want money? I have money.”

“That’s illegal, and you know it,” she says, angrily. “I’m not a whore. This conversation is over.” Aria sets down her empty glass and walks past Spencer, not paying her any mind, to head into the living room.

“Wait” Spencer calls after her. “Wait. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” 

Aria stops and turns with a glare. Spencer has one more chance. 

“You can have anything.” The desperation in Spencer’s voice makes it clear she means it.

Aria thinks this over for a moment, then takes a step closer. “All right. If we do this, we do it my way.”

“Okay...” Spencer says. “What does that mean, exactly?”

Aria comes close enough to grab Spencer’s tie, taking hold and yanking it until Spencer’s face is an inch from hers. “It means I get to do what I want. To you.” 

Spencer can feel Aria’s breath on her face, and she closes her eyes, but it’s all still overwhelming. 

“I’m going to touch you. I’m going to fuck you.” Aria lets those words hang for a moment before escalating it further. “I’m probably going to hurt you.” Spencer’s trembling again, trying to make herself invisible. “And when I do,” Aria continues, “you’ll come so hard, you’ll spend the rest of your life trying to recreate it.” She lets go and walks back into the kitchen to take out her phone, clicking through some notifications, absolutely ignoring that Spencer is still there, as if nothing she said was of any consequence to her at all.

Spencer swallows around the lump in her throat, standing frozen on the spot. “Okay,” she agrees, but the word barely escapes.

“Come back when you’re ready,” Aria says without looking up.

“I am,” Spencer forces out, then finds her voice and says louder, “I’m ready. Right now.”

Aria tosses her phone onto the counter and examines her visitor again, with a doubtful sigh. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

She crosses back past Spencer into the living room, reaching the spot where she originally waited for her to come home. The echo of her heels on the maple floor rings in Spencer’s ears, causing the hairs on her neck to stand straight up.

“Get on your knees,” Aria says. “Here.” She points to the open area in front of her. When Spencer doesn’t move, she adds, “Now.”

Spencer snaps out of her haze of insecurity and walks over right away to comply, lowering herself to the ground one knee at a time. She seems unsure where to look, like she might not have permission to make eye contact, so she picks a particular slat in the floor to fixate on.

Aria circles her again, letting the clicks on the wood speak for her as they fill the room with her power. After a full revolution, Aria continues behind Spencer and presses her heel hard into Spencer’s back, knocking her over without warning. 

Spencer falls forward onto her hands and catches herself but doesn’t complain. Her role here is not to argue, it’s to be humiliated. She gives in to gravity, letting her hair fall around her face, blocking out the light, and she remains there to await further instruction. The last time they played in black mode, Aria made Spencer drag herself along the floor like a dying man in the desert. It seemed appropriate enough--Spencer was thirsty for Aria and happily fought her way to the bedroom for a chance at a taste.

But their game is different every time, and Spencer doesn’t know where this one is heading. Then, she feels weight on her spine, heavy and sudden, and realizes Aria is sitting on her ass, side-saddle. 

Reaching forward, Aria slides her hands around Spencer’s hair, drawing it away from her face, and takes all of it in one thick ponytail, wrapping her fingers around. 

“Go,” she says, and tugs on her reins, clarifying the task ahead. 

It’s difficult, but Spencer manages to lift her knee and move it forward, behind her hand, taking them both a few inches closer to the bedroom. The hardwood is unforgiving on her tender knees; she hadn’t realized how thin the fabric of her new slacks is until now. 

Aria’s forcing her to keep her head up, looking forward, and Spencer winces against the (wonderful) sting in her scalp. But step by step, she pulls ahead, taking her queen to her throne room like a dutiful servant. Aria’s doing quite the balancing act, and Spencer knows it’ll be her fault if Aria falls, so she moves with deliberation and steadiness, not risking failure. Not tonight.

She can do this; she _will_ do this. But their next apartment, she decides, will have a shorter fucking hallway.

Finally, they reach the carpet of the bedroom, and Spencer takes Aria as close as she can to the bed, pulling up beside it like a fucking town car. Aria releases Spencer’s hair, removes her heels, and stands up. Spencer doesn’t assume she’s allowed to do the same, just waits while Aria walks over to their closet.

“Get undressed and lie on the bed,” Aria says, then disappears into the small room. 

Spencer straightens up and stands, stretching her back muscles while she can. She looks down at her amazing suit--the one she dropped a thousand dollars on, special for this occasion, the one Aria canceled their plans over--and wonders if she really is just supposed to take it off herself and put it away. 

“I thought…” she starts, hesitantly. “Did you not want to…”

“I don’t give a shit about your outfit, Spencer,” Aria calls from out of sight. “Take it off.”

_Right_ , Spencer realizes--black mode. Aria’s going to keep her on her heels. The uncertainty of this game is why it’s one of Spencer’s favorites.

One by one she peels off the layers: her incredible slim fit coat, the suspenders Aria never even saw, the striped silk tie, the crisp collared shirt, the expensive penny loafers, and finally the trousers, now a bit worse for wear. Neatly she folds and stacks them on a chair in the corner of the room, then removes her bra and boy briefs and places them on top. 

She climbs onto the bed and lies in the middle, scooting a pillow over to the center of the pile for her head. It’s awkward waiting naked, but fortunately it’s not for long.

Aria comes back into view sporting quite the costume change, and Spencer’s breath hitches.

The gorgeous dress and heels are gone, replaced by a black lingerie set. It’s the one Aria picked up on their trip to Berlin but rarely wears, in order to retain its effect on Spencer. It’s sleek and classy, forgoing lace and opting instead for a trio of straps that criss-cross over Aria’s stomach, linking the scant top piece to the even less modest bottom. It’s only just barely covering where Spencer wants most to be (or anything else, for that matter). 

The no-frills, no-nonsense design of the ensemble only adds to the air of Aria’s power, and the way she’s walking toward the bed, as if she’s about to get away with murder, has Spencer shaking again.

“Hold your arms out,” Aria says, and stops short of the bed to open the nightstand drawer. It’s full of goodies, and she rummages around until she finds two black velcro handcuffs, already fitted to Spencer’s size. 

Spencer does as she’s told, timidly extending her arms toward the edges of the bed as if they hadn’t done this three dozen times before. Aria wraps the cuff around Spencer’s left wrist and hooks it to a long bungee cord that they leave running under their bed. (They figured out months ago how to work around not having bedposts. It was a cheap and simple solution, and felt very lesbian of them.) Aria then crosses to the other side and cuffs Spencer’s other wrist, hooking it in a bit more forcibly than the first. “No running away now.”

Spencer’s mouth is dry again, so she just holds still and tries to anticipate Aria’s next move. The cuffs are tight, and she’s careful not to test their range, as she doesn’t want Aria to think she’s resisting.

Aria doubles back to the drawer and shuffles the contents, considering her many options. “I’m trying to figure out why someone like you would come see someone like me.”

“I heard you’re good,” she eeks out.

Aria looks at her to say, “I _am_ good,” then turns back to her search. “I wonder what your boyfriend would say.”

“Please don’t tell him,” Spencer begs.

“What, that you’re gay?” Aria counters, still focused on the drawer. She leans down to get better light on what’s hiding in the back.

“What? I’m not gay! I love him.” Spencer fights to stay in character, to keep it feeling real. But the words feel funny on her tongue, and she hopes she’ll have something much better on her tongue soon.

“Uh huh,” Aria says, absently. “Asking a woman to make you come when your boyfriend can’t is definitely a very straight thing to do.”

“No, I just thought...girls understand girl bodies. You show me how, and then I can show him.”

“A little scary, isn’t it?” Aria asks, pushing a few more things aside in the drawer. “Wanting a woman to fuck you so badly.”

“No,” she says, matter-of-factly. It’s a weak attempt at bravery. “And I’m not scared.”

Aria finally locates the item she’s seeking and pulls it out. It’s an eight-inch chef’s knife. ”Maybe you should be.” 

“Whoa!” Spencer bucks against the cuffs, kicking her legs as if that would help pull her free. But she’s only hooked to herself with that goddamn bungee cord, and has no leverage. Her struggle is futile.

Adrenaline courses through her, and for a moment, Spencer’s reaction isn’t entirely fabricated. She doesn’t know what Aria’s about to do with that knife; they’ve never used one in sex before, nor does she know what you’d even _do_ with a knife that doesn’t involve stabbing or blood. She holds back the safeword, trusting things aren’t about to get murdery. Aria would never. But Spencer still regrets the short-sighted decision to keep their home invader defense weapon in the sex drawer. (Once, a half-asleep Spencer went to attack a distant noise with a dildo instead, and Aria didn’t let her forget it for weeks.)

That night was a laugh, but there’s nothing funny about this. Aria is keeping her eyes on the knife, watching the way the light glints off the edges as she rotates it. It’s fucking terrifying.

Slipping back into character, Spencer yanks against the cuffs and cries out, “Please don’t hurt me! I’m sorry! Whatever I did, I’m so sorry!”

“Shut up,” Aria says, looking at Spencer now. Just holding the knife is threatening enough; it isn’t even pointed at Spencer, but she obeys. “If you do as I say, you won’t get hurt. If you keep thrashing around like a baby, you might run into my little friend here. And we don’t want that. Do we?”

Spencer shakes her head, lips pressed together. A few beads of sweat appear on her forehead, and she feels her pulse racing, urging her into flight mode. She has no fucking clue what is going on, but she can’t deny the vision of her tiny fiancée with a big-ass knife is doing things to her. Very good things.

Aria walks around to the end of the bed and stands there, weapon brandished, taking in the view.

Spencer peers down, feeling even more exposed now that someone with a fucking knife is standing between her open legs. She wants so badly to close them but worries that would only upset the crazy person. Besides, if Aria wants to go there, she will. Spencer promised to give her anything she wants. And really, Spencer wants Aria to have all of her and more.

Aria doesn’t come any closer. She looks around the room from her position as if searching for something, until her eyes land on the chair. 

“I don’t think you’ll want to see what happens next.” 

Setting the knife down on the bed, Aria picks up the suspenders from the pile of clothes and wraps them around Spencer’s head, covering her eyes like a blindfold.

“Wait, no--” Spencer starts, but Aria doesn’t stop.

“Yes. Trust me. We have the same goal.” Aria manages to get the straps all the way around three times and ties the ends in a knot, pulling it tight. 

Spencer inhales, trembling, and then exhales slowly, trying to steady herself. The pulse pounding in her ears is louder now that she can no longer see, and she’s enjoying playing off her aroused excitement as fear. She has full trust Aria won’t actually cut her, but Spencer wonders, what _is_ she going to do?

Her hearing is muffled, but she can sense Aria is circling back around to the end of the bed, and Spencer feels the new weight on the mattress by her feet as Aria presses into it, moving closer.

“Relax,” Aria says, placing a hand on Spencer’s leg. “Stay still.”

Spencer holds her breath for a moment, hoping that will quiet her body. She can still see the knife in her mind, looming large, and she wonders if this is what Aria wanted--the fear of the unknown, the way a memory can be scarier than reality.

Aria scoots closer and reaches forward, and Spencer suddenly feels fingertips on her lips. They trail delicately down her chin and neck, across her chest and over her stomach, then part ways to travel down each leg. Spencer shivers, unable to hide the jolt that courses through her. One of her legs kicks a little, involuntarily, and Aria smacks her thigh with her hand.

“I said, stay still.”

“Sorry,” Spencer whispers.

Aria pops her again in the same place, harder, reddening the skin. “Say my name when you apologize to me, whore.”

“I’m sorry, Aria,” Spencer says louder, squeezing her eyes closed behind the elastic bands. 

She feels Aria’s body shift forward again, and the air changes--Aria is leaning over her now. Spencer licks her lips out of habit, hoping for a passionate kiss. She hopes Aria can sense how badly she wants it.

Aria places a hand to Spencer’s throat, holding it firmly against her voice box at the base of her neck. Then, Spencer gasps as something cold and unfamiliar presses on the underside of her chin. Aria has the flat blade of the knife against her skin, using it to force Spencer’s head back as far as it will go. 

“Don’t disappoint me again,” she threatens. 

Spencer doesn’t dare make a sound or move a muscle. She can picture everything clear as day: the sharp edge, dangerously close; Aria’s crimson fingernails squeezing into her skin; the blazing look in her hazel eyes. Spencer’s afraid to breathe, but she takes the risk. 

“I’m sorry, Aria,” she forces out through clenched teeth. “I’ll be good.”

Aria maintains her power position as she considers the apology but eventually relents, then moves back to the end of the bed to resume her plan.

Once released, Spencer lets out a jagged breath and turns her head to the side, as if seeking fresh air. Her body tingles with suspense, and she just wants Aria to begin touching her for real already. The longer this drags out, the more she aches for it.

“That’s an interesting choice of words,” Aria says, “‘good.’” She digs one fingernail into the top of Spencer’s thigh and drags it down her leg, carving a white scratch line but not cutting deep enough to draw blood. “A good girl wouldn’t be cheating on her boyfriend.” 

Spencer gasps at the feeling, assuming it’s the knife. She imagines it slicing into her, leaving a hot red trail as it moves. Knowing Aria wouldn’t really go that far that isn’t enough to push the vision out of her mind. Previous evenings in black mode have taught her she shouldn’t assume anything. Her skin is on fire, and it’s driving her crazy to not see what Aria is doing. 

Aria mirrors the action on Spencer’s other leg as she continues her judgment. “A good girl wouldn’t be naked with another woman.”

When the tracing ends, Spencer’s legs move just a little wider instinctively, inviting Aria inside, much as she’s trying to hold still. 

“In fact,” Aria says, watching the beautiful, naked, bound, blindfolded woman in front of her, “I don’t think you want to be ‘good’ at all.”

“I do,” Spencer assures her, nodding. “I do.”

Aria quietly shifts forward, not wanting to telegraph her actions, and takes hold of Spencer’s nipples between her fingers and thumbs, squeezing and twisting them hard. Spencer cries out but immediately silences herself by pushing her mouth against her shoulder. 

“Liar,” Aria says again and lets go. “A good girl would’ve stayed home and made her boyfriend dinner, then sucked his cock while he watched the big game. But instead, you’re here...with me. Like a slut.”

Spencer squeezes her eyes shut tight with her face still pressed on her shoulder and shakes her head, groaning in disagreement. She knows the more pathetic she makes herself appear, the more powerful Aria will feel, and that’s the birthday gift Aria has ordered tonight. So Spencer whimpers and sounds like she’s starting to cry. “I’m not…”

“Liar!” Aria shouts and slaps Spencer’s pink thigh a third time. “We both know what you came here for. And it’s not just an orgasm.” She reaches forward and lightly touches the sharp tip of the knife to Spencer’s chest, pressing just enough for Spencer to know what it is. “You want to feel something so you won’t be dead inside.”

Aria ever so carefully drags it downward, not enough to leave a mark, moving in between her breasts, across her stomach, until it reaches the edge of her trimmed brown hairs. Spencer hasn’t disagreed with Aria’s assessment yet, so she pushes it further. “You want me to hurt you, because pain is something you can hold on to. You can take it with you when you go back to your disappointing boyfriend. You’ll remember it. You’ll remember me.”

Spencer loves the poetry of the notion; it’s striking, and her mouth falls open to allow more air in. It’s taking all her energy not to move; she feels the sharp point of the knife holding steady against her skin. She loves it, which means she should pretend the opposite. 

“Please...I’m scared…”

“Scared of this?” Aria asks, and presses the flat metal side against Spencer’s clit. 

Spencer gasps again, biting her shoulder now as she struggles to remain still. The cold is a shock to her sensitive skin, and she doesn’t know how close the sharp edge is, nor does she want to find out. But having something so dangerous in this vulnerable place is giving her an undeniable rush.

The knife is wide and covers most of the area, so Aria holds it there, letting the warmth of Spencer’s body bring it to room temperature. She knows Spencer has been desperate for physical contact but wasn’t expecting it like this. Nor was Aria expecting to enjoy knife play so much. 

Happy birthday to her, indeed.

She pulls the knife away, and Spencer moans softly in response at the sudden cold, missing the pressure. 

“I knew you’d like Trixie,” Aria says, examining the small moisture marks now on the blade.

Spencer’s head turns, curious, and Aria clarifies, even though Spencer can’t see anything. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she? Eight inches of stainless steel, and sharp enough to cut through your bullshit lies.”

Aria brings her legs in criss-cross, sitting between Spencer’s knees, and starts carefully touching the knife’s point between the layers of Spencer’s glistening pink skin, using it to gently push them aside and get a better view. “I bet your boyfriend doesn’t know you can get this wet.”

Spencer turns her face further toward her shoulder, whimpering again at the touch and trying to control her shaking body. The cold metal both tickles and terrifies her; she can’t believe Aria would jeopardize her most vulnerable places like this. But Spencer has her stoplight words and can use them at any time if it gets to be too much. And the way the smooth blade caresses her skin, moving without friction on account of her arousal, it’s only turning her on more, so she swallows the words and lets whatever is happening happen.

Aria pushes on one side of Spencer’s skin, then the other, and traces the point gently down her inner thigh, inching dangerously close to Spencer’s entrance. The visual is intoxicating, and she’s drunk with power wielding this weapon and holding Spencer’s emotions in the palm of her hand. She touches the tip to one patch of skin, then another, and another, teasing Spencer, letting her know just how thin the line is between pleasure and pain, between love and violence. 

“I wonder how easily you bleed,” she considers casually, like she’s choosing a restaurant for lunch.

“No, please no,” Spencer protests, then immediately regrets it and clenches her eyes shut, as if Aria could see her remorse.

“Relax,” Aria says again, taking the knife away and setting it on the bed beside her. “I have a different kind of fun in mind.”

Spencer’s afraid to ask and remains quiet--what could Aria possibly be escalating to after an eight-inch knife?

But then Spencer feels a fingertip against her clit as Aria drags it down along wet skin and to her entrance, where it circles once and then drags back up. Aria lies down on her stomach and pushes the folds apart with her thumbs, and then Spencer feels Aria’s warm mouth cover her, and she inhales sharply. Spencer’s back arches as Aria takes her clit between her lips and sucks on it firmly, flicking her tongue over and over. 

Spencer doesn’t hold back her approval. “Yes...yes…” she moans, biting her lip and tilting her head back. “Please…”

But Aria shifts down, moving to circle Spencer’s entrance instead, and Spencer tries to press her body lower to get Aria’s mouth back where she wants it, but fails. 

Aria smacks her on the thigh again to get her point across, then continues working. Spencer tastes good on her tongue, a perfect blend of salt and sweet and want, and Aria knows she could stay here for an hour before her neck and jaw get too sore to continue. But that’s not in the cards this evening.

Aria slides both her hands under Spencer’s ass and lifts slightly, and Spencer takes the hint. She presses her feet flat on the bed to aid the task, though she doesn’t know why. 

Bracing on her elbows for support, Aria holds her up and uses her thumbs to spread Spencer apart, letting the beauty reveal itself before her. 

God, she loves women.

And without further delay, Aria returns her tongue to Spencer’s entrance, pressing and sliding and loving it fully, now from a better angle. But a moment later, she shifts lower again, dancing her tongue along the skin below, down and down until she reaches an untested destination. 

It’s unexpected, and Spencer lets out a weak sound of pleasure as the new sensations register. “Oh my god.”

Hearing no red light, Aria continues with renewed energy and gives this spot the same loving attention--firm pressure, long strokes, fast movements, an eager wanting. Spencer hasn’t reacted this strongly to her since their early days together when everything was a first, and Aria’s glad she saved this card to play tonight. 

Spencer tries to open her legs wider, granting Aria full access to every inch of her, lost in the unbelievable talents of Aria’s tongue. She never thought she would be one for rimming, but miracles happen every day, she supposes, and this is now her new favorite thing. “Please don’t stop,” she says, pulling tension into her restraints for a sense of stability as her brain explodes. “Please…”

But Aria does, of course, and sits up again, giving Spencer’s clit a firm pinch to punctuate the end of that portion of the evening. “I thought you’d like that,” she says, then adds, “Bet _you_ didn’t.”

Spencer makes a noise, something between a whine and a moan, and wonders how she never knew before tonight just how sinfully _good_ her body could feel being bad.

Aria gets up and goes back to the drawer, only this time, Spencer can’t see what she’s taking out. “Have fun telling your boyfriend you need your ass eaten.”

Spencer doesn’t respond, more stunned by the hard truth that she is absolutely that person now. Fortunately, her actual fiancée doesn’t seem to mind.

She hears the draw slide closed again and asks, “What are you...What now?” She feels Aria climb back on the bed between her legs and prepares for contact. She can’t decide if she hopes it’s the knife again or not.

“Well,” Aria begins, “now that we know what kind of whore you are, we may as well use that to our advantage.”

Spencer’s brow furrows, unsure of what that means, but then she feels Aria’s finger moving through her wetness again, in and around her entrance, and she holds her breath, waiting for the finger to slide inside. 

Only, it doesn’t. 

Instead, Aria trails it downward and presses on Spencer’s newly awakened opening, still wet and longing for touch. 

Spencer’s body gives way easily, and her back arches again as she takes an inch of Aria inside. She moans loudly, head tilting back again as Aria pushes further, and then Spencer remembers how to speak. “Fuck…”

“I thought so,” Aria says, as a devilish smile slowly spreads across her face. She loves watching Spencer clench and buck at her movements, and loves knowing she’s the cause. She feels Spencer pushing against her hand, pleading, urging, aching to take her in, to take more and more and more of her, as much as Aria is willing to give. 

But before Aria can get all the way inside, she withdraws, and Spencer huffs an exhale as if crashing back to reality. “Please…” she starts, exasperated. 

“Shut up.” 

Spencer flinches but obeys. She hears the soft sound of Aria picking something up off the bed, then a plastic cap flipping open. A few seconds later, she feels cold wetness where Aria’s warm tongue had been, and Spencer inhales in a hiss at the contrast. But immediately there is pressure, and Spencer knows now what Aria is doing.

Aria holds the small purple plug in her hand, pressing it firmly against Spencer. It has plenty of lube on it now, and Spencer’s already quite pliant, but she knows this is Spencer’s first time. Aria’s in no hurry and wants to do this right. She holds it still and lets Spencer push into it as her body stretches and adjusts. The toy is only four inches long but it widens significantly at the bottom to keep from sliding out, and Aria knows from experience how important it is not to rush this part.

Spencer’s teeth are digging into her shoulder, providing some relief from the stinging pleasure between her legs. It hurts but in such a good way; she didn’t know her body could do this, could _feel_ this. She’s grateful Aria isn’t forcing anything, and it’s taking all of Spencer’s patience not to just lean all of her weight onto it and _get it there_ already. But she feels the toy getting wider as it goes, with no end in sight, so she squeezes her eyes tighter and lets a noise escape her lips as she pushes, sliding, stretching, opening, to accept it. 

It takes almost two minutes for the purple silicone to fully disappear into her, and Spencer cries out at the widest point, gasping when it pops into the open space, breaking through, and her body contracts and closes around it. It’s an incredible feeling, and it only adds to the rush already coursing through her body.

Aria watches the whole thing. Spencer’s body taking it in, the way her mouth reacts, the sounds of her arousal, how she’s biting her lip and shoulder, fists gripped tight and pulling at the cuffs. Aria almost wants to remove the suspenders and see the look in Spencer’s eyes at this novel experience, but there will be other days for that. This is merely the first of many adventures like this, from the looks of it.

“Good,” Aria says, keeping a finger on the bottom of the flared base. The plug isn’t going anywhere, but she likes to hold it there anyway, if only to remain connected to Spencer. 

Spencer squeezes her muscles, relishing the feeling of having something inside her triggering these long ignored nerve endings. It feels naughty, and she likes it. And she can’t help but notice it’s only intensifying her wish to get Aria’s mouth back on her clit where it belongs. If Aria’s goal is to make her come, this combination would certainly do the trick.

Instead, she hears the familiar click of the plastic cap, and she turns her head, curious yet again. “Aria? What...”

“Shut up.” Aria continues her preparation, leaving Spencer in the dark. “Don’t question me again.”

“Sorry,” Spencer says, laying her head back down. At the punitive slap on her tender thigh, she corrects, “I’m sorry, _Aria_.”

Once again, Spencer feels the cold liquid against her sensitive skin, this time at her usual entrance, along with a familiar shape. Spencer knows this dildo; it’s not their go-to gold one, she can tell. It’s the larger one, made in skin tone, which has a softer texture and wider girth. Spencer can handle it, but she’s never been double penetrated before and suddenly doubts her capacity for such a thing. Her narrow frame feels so full already.

“I can’t,” she whispers, shaking her head as Aria pushes the first inch into her. Spencer’s so fucking wet, it’s sliding in with little resistance. “I can’t…”

“Shut up,” Aria says once more and pushes the cock another inch further in as punishment. She doesn’t believe Spencer means it, as per their arrangement, but feels she should be sure. “This is a pretty massive cock I’m putting inside you, whore. What color do you think it is?”

It’s their safety check-in, like pulling up to a stoplight--a way for Spencer to convey her consent without breaking character. 

“A really bright green,” Spencer says, gritting her teeth and arching her back. 

Aria smiles. She was right. Spencer fucking loves it.

“Good.” Aria pushes on the toy again and watches Spencer take in the last of its seven inches. 

“Fuck!” Spencer calls out as it reaches its full depth. “I can’t...fuck!” But Spencer is lost to the ocean of chemicals in her brain. Her body squeezes tightly around the objects invading it that fill her like a vessel, welcoming them, embracing them, keeping them with her, like she was born for this, like it’s her _purpose._ Like when they’re ultimately removed she’ll be left empty and wanting, incomplete.

“Please,” she begs, though she doesn’t even know what for anymore. The fake Spencer might want them removed, or just to come already and go home, but the real Spencer wants even more--more inches, more fullness, more wetness, more delicious pain, more pressure against her very core. 

More Aria.

“Please,” she continues, pathetically, seeking admonishment. “Please, I just need...I need…”

The slap to her thigh doesn’t come. Spencer wonders if she should be louder or start crying, but then an inward breath is cut short by Aria’s strong grip on her throat. Spencer can feel the sharp edge of the knife once more against her skin, just under her chin, and she freezes.

“You don’t know what you fucking need, _slut,_ ” Aria says, boring into her. “I DO.” Hovering this close to Spencer’s lips, Aria can smell her root beer flavored chapstick and sweat mixed with traces of cologne, and it takes all of Aria’s willpower not to kiss her. Instead, she channels that energy into her threat. “I think it’s time you shut the fuck up.”

“I’m sorry, Aria,” Spencer whispers through her teeth, ever cognizant of the blade beneath her jaw. “I’m so sorry.”

Aria pulls the knife away and drops it quickly to slap Spencer across the face. Some of the impact is lost to the suspenders, but it still draws a pained cry. 

“I’m done with your bullshit apologies,” Aria says. She climbs off of Spencer and returns to the drawer, wasting no time finding what she needs. 

Spencer hears the faint sound of a box opening, but the pounding in her ears drowns out any further details. She feels Aria climb back on the bed and straddle her stomach, and Spencer’s afraid to move in case _Trixie_ is with her. Everything in her body tenses, holding the two toys firmly in place inside.

“Open your mouth,” Aria commands. Spencer shakes her head on principle, and Aria slaps her again. Pinching Spencer’s jaw on either side, Aria presses her nails in hard to pull it open. “Show me your teeth, whore.”

Spencer fights back harder and pleads, “No,” but Aria catches her bottom lip with a finger and forces her way in. They both know she could safeword if she wanted to, so Aria keeps pushing. Spencer lets her in but pretends to cry in protest, resisting the impulse to suck on Aria’s finger. She can taste the lingering traces of all the places Aria has been, and it just makes Spencer want her back there even more.

“I said,” Aria repeats, pulling her jaw all the way down, “show me your fucking _teeth_.” And without warning, Aria forces something large into Spencer’s mouth and holds it there.

It’s one of Aria’s toys, Spencer realizes right away--a gag shaped like a small cock. It’s only an inch long but feels much bigger inside her mouth. Aria bought the toy for herself as a pleasure item a year ago, only to discover it was much more fun to punish Spencer with it on occasions such as this.

Aria pulls its black nylon strap around Spencer’s head, just below the suspenders, and latches the clip, then places the cold weight of the knife on Spencer’s chest, leaving it there. “Don’t move.”

Aria steps off the bed to admire her handiwork as Spencer protests, muzzled and muffled and properly stuffed, but remains mostly still.

There before her, the love of Aria’s life is laid bare on the bed, naked and sweaty, arms extended and cuffed, tightly blindfolded and gagged, dripping wet and double penetrated, hosting _three_ cocks in her aching holes. And all the while, the shiny knife rests between Spencer’s breasts like a centerpiece, urging her to hold still, as if posing for a painting.

And this is a fucking work of art if Aria’s ever seen one. She briefly considers getting her camera but resists the urge. Some pictures are meant to be memories.

_“Fuck,_ you are beautiful,” she says, momentarily slipping out of character.

Spencer doesn’t quite feel beautiful, but she certainly feels full of _something_. Every nerve and muscle in her body is lit up, electric, twitching and squeezing and pressing and twisting and _wanting_. Her chest heaves up and down, lifting the metal weight as her lungs expand, and she jerks her head side to side, fighting, even if she doesn’t know what she’s fighting for. The tide of stimulation is rising, coming at her like an avalanche, unrelenting and persistent and gathering speed. 

Spencer clenches tighter around the largest toy, not wanting it to slip away as her arousal builds. But then she feels it driven further into her, all the way, and it pushes against her walls as if threatening to break them and split her open, to take her over until she’s so full of Aria’s desires there isn’t room for anything else.

Spencer’s never wanted anything more.

She slides her body down as far as the restraints allow, taking it in, and relishes the pressure Aria’s providing. Spencer’s already at the limits of her depth, and she pushes until it hurts, as if willing herself to be bigger, braver, bolder. To be everything Aria wants her to be.

“Good girl,” Aria says, climbing back on the bed as she holds the toy in place. “You want more, don’t you?”

Spencer feels drunk on dopamine, and she nods vigorously, moaning loudly against the cock in her mouth with all the words she can’t say. The bitter silicone taste is strange on her tongue, but she’s too focused on what’s happening between her legs to care. Never before has she felt so much at once, and Spencer doesn’t know if she wants to stay in this state for hours or if she’s longing for release--a heavenly purgatory, or a devilishly brief euphoria. She’s in no state to think clearly; tears of joy and want and pain are trickling down her cheeks now, pooling against the nylon strap of the gag and running into her mouth as she resists.

But fortunately, she has no power here. All decisions are Aria’s.

And now Aria’s pressing on the lower plug in with one hand, holding it there, while slowly moving the larger cock out and in, out and in with her other hand, watching it disappear inside Spencer one glorious inch at a time. The friction is minimal despite its size, and Aria sees Spencer nodding as she increases her pace, all signs that Spencer wants this as much as Aria knew she would. 

This is why Spencer was put on this earth: to fill her mind with knowledge and fill her body with Aria.

Spencer tries to focus on her breathing as the motion quickens, creating heat where she feels so much already. She squeezes hard around the plug as she clenches her fists and bites down, desperate to hold on to something, anything, to keep from flying away. The knife on her chest jostles as she moves, and Spencer’s careful not to bend and meet its point. She’s gridlocked, unable to communicate to Aria what she needs, _where_ she needs her touch most--on the one place Aria hasn’t cast her influence.

She feels the long cock slide slowly out of her almost all the way, leaving only the head inside, then it slams back in hard, violently, and Spencer responds in kind, pulling on the cuffs with a muffled scream. Aria watches for snaps, but Spencer’s nodding instead, so she repeats the measure--a gradual withdrawal and a sudden return. 

Three times, four times, five, six, seven, each faster and harder than the last, and Aria can see Spencer’s crying now, whimpering as she nods with what strength she last left. She’s seen Spencer like this once before, a year and a half ago, when they first tested the limits of Aria choking her. They learned a lot that night, both about Aria’s ability to inflict pleasurable pain and how much Spencer enjoyed it.

And here, now, Spencer wants to be bruised, to hold marks of the violence she begged for deep inside where only Aria will know.

Spencer wants to break. She wants to be broken.

Aria’s pushing from a stronger angle with her forearm behind it now, thrusting with her full force, making it hurt so good. “Is this how he fucks you?” she asks, slamming again and again and again. “Does he fuck you til you cry?”

Spencer shakes her head ‘no,’ feeding Aria more power, and it’s true--no one has ever fucked Spencer like Aria does.

Aria drives her arm forward one more time, then another, and another. Her muscles are tiring, but her eyes will never tire of watching the way Spencer bucks and trembles under her hand. Aria bites through the pain and continues her pace. Each push is five seconds apart; not a steady enough rhythm to achieve climax, but that isn’t the point. Not yet. 

Right now Aria just wants Spencer to feel her, to stretch and burn and soak and bleed and cry and grin and remember her for hours after she withdraws. Aria wants to brand Spencer, to be unforgettable. She wants to be forever, to be _her_ forever. And she loves black mode for the opportunity to push Spencer to her limits and leave that mark. Spencer’s never let anyone do what Aria gets to do to her, and never wanted anyone else to. Maybe it says something about their connection and the intimacy they share. Maybe it’s their legacy, or maybe it will eventually be their undoing, but on nights like this, it’s everything.

Aria stops her motions--a reprieve for them both--and reaches for the final item on the bedspread. “Do you want to come, Spencer?” she asks, as if any of this were so simple.

Spencer screams against the muzzle, pleading, and arches her back to intensify the sensations already coursing through her. The loudest thing she can do is moan, and the vibrations make the cock in her mouth hum against her tongue and teeth.

But then there are new vibrations, and the sound catches Spencer’s attention, snapping her back to reality from the chemical haze. The tone is familiar; Aria has Spencer’s go-to device. It’s beautiful music to Spencer, though, at the same time, she doesn’t know how she’s going to survive adding it to the mix.

Aria makes sure the lower plug is firmly in place with a push, then does the same with the larger toy, and Spencer’s muscles clench around both, overcome with excitement for what she knows is coming next. The vibrator is singing, and once contact begins, she’ll be mere moments away from release.

But instead, she senses the weight on the bed changing again as Aria moves, then feels Aria’s small body straddle hers. The light beyond the suspenders dims as Aria leans over her, and Spencer holds her breath in anticipation. 

Aria presses a hand on the back of the gag, keeping the small cock firmly in place between Spencer’s teeth, and she picks up the knife with her other hand. Holding the blade against Spencer’s sweat-glistened throat, Aria leans close to her ear and whispers, “You’re mine now. You pathetic little whore.”

Spencer can’t nod, can’t move, can’t do anything except whimper and cry, so she lets the tears flow. 

Aria presses harder on the back of the gag in response and smiles. “Yeah...cry, little bitch. Cry for me.” She leaves her hand there, relishing the sight of Spencer so helplessly lost in the emotions of her experience. Then, when she feels the time is right, she pulls her hand away and reaches for the humming vibrator she left on the bed. “And now you’re going to come for me.”

Spencer thinks she might die first, but she’s willing to chance it.

Aria settles in, sitting on Spencer’s stomach with her knees against the bedspread. She knows Spencer can feel how wet she is through the thin fabric of her lingerie. Carefully, she holds the flat side of the knife under Spencer’s chin so she can apply pressure safely, and turns at an angle to reach behind her and hold the end of the vibrator against Spencer’s clit. Both items are weapons in her hands, and Aria knows how to use them.

Spencer reacts with a flinch and a groan, as she anticipated, but Aria maintains her hold on both locations, watching the way Spencer’s chest heaves, breathing fast and shallow. She has full control of how this ends, and she lifts and moves the device to provide contact in short bursts, never letting it linger too long or with too much force.

Everything in Spencer’s body is contracting and tingling as this new addition sends her into the stratosphere. The pleasure is almost unbearable, almost too much, but she clenches tight to the three swords cast through her and hangs on for dear life. She’s scared to push on the knife under her jaw, much as she wants to brace against it, and instead angles her head back against the pillow.

Aria watches Spencer’s lips quivering and flexing around the gag as she fights to stay still. She doesn’t know if Spencer’s willing the orgasm to come or fighting it off to draw out the experience longer. It doesn’t matter--Aria has the power here, and she’ll make Spencer come when she wants to.

Spencer feels the vibrator more now; the gaps of reprieve are shortening. Aria knows how she likes it; she’s watched Spencer use it on herself dozens of times. She knows just how to angle it and push in circular motions, steady and strong. Holding the knife firm, threateningly, Aria adjusts the vibrator against Spencer’s clit and keeps it there, pushing more and more until she finds the right amount of tension. The high pitch noise escaping Spencer’s clenched teeth lets her know she has it right.

After nearly an hour of building Spencer’s house of cards one level at a time, it’s about to come crashing down.

Spencer’s mind can’t focus, caught in a full-body assault of stimulation, pinned down, helpless to fight back. She leans into the buzzing on her clit and holds her breath, squeezing the toys inside her, clamping her jaw on the gag, digging her fingernails into her palms, sensing the warmth and wetness of Aria’s body on her stomach and the trickle of tears down her face, imagining the blade under her chin drawing a thin line of red from her skin as she nears closer and closer to release, rising higher and higher and higher. 

She didn’t know it was possible to feel this much at once.

And then, Spencer’s dam breaks, _she_ breaks, and she feels everything.

She cries out as the orgasm courses through her, and Aria tosses the knife aside to focus on the device and its important work. She keeps it in place, moving it away for a second at a time to pull Spencer over the peak and down the other side. At the same time, she puts her other hand on Spencer’s throat, not to choke her but to keep her tethered. Aria wants Spencer to remain here with her, shattered and content, sated and wanting, never forgetting who destroyed her so completely.

Turning off the vibrator’s power, Aria makes no similar concession herself and remains atop Spencer as she comes down from the rush. Aria rests her hand on Spencer’s clit, providing much-needed contact and warmth to aid her return; she knows how good it feels, just like she knows Spencer’s body will now want the implements withdrawn as soon as possible. But the toys and restraints are all still in place, like stakes pinning Spencer to Aria’s fantasy, and Aria is in no hurry to remove them. Not when Spencer’s fucking _glowing_.

Aria shifts again and moves both hands to Spencer’s throat now, resting them there and caressing, dragging her thumbs along soft skin and digging her nails in when she finds something to press on. Beads of sweat aid her movements, and she can feel Spencer’s pulse racing against her palms. 

Spencer’s scared, and she likes it.

She tightens her grip. “You have nothing to say to me?”

_“Aank ooo,”_ Spencer says around the gag, weakly. It feels larger in her mouth the longer it remains, like it might soon choke the air out of her.

Aria slaps her face, and Spencer isn’t quick to recover. Much of the impact is absorbed by the suspenders and strap, but the strike was hard and unexpected, and Spencer’s still groggy with comedown. Anything that keeps the rush going is welcome, so she doesn’t complain.

But Aria does. “Take the fucking cock out of your mouth before you speak to me, whore.”

Spencer grumbles in faux frustration and tugs at the arm restraints, kicking her legs as if that would somehow free her from under Aria’s weight. Being mocked like this only makes her wetter, but the duo of toys doesn’t budge in the struggle, and Spencer is reminded how helpless she is. The hands around her throat squeeze tighter, warning.

“What do you _say_ , Spencer?”

_“Aank ooo, Aa-yaa,”_ she shouts, willing the words to find their way out. She’s so lost in the dark, now without sight for an hour or more, and Spencer doesn’t know what Aria’s doing or what she wants. The image of her face and that outfit _(jesus, that outfit)_ is fading, replaced by the unyielding feeling of three cocks swelling and filling her up, perhaps permanently, as if this is now her fate. She is Aria’s whore, just like she said. 

A chill rushes down Spencer’s spine.

And then, the pressure in her pounding head lessens. The bright light comes in, harshly, and Spencer squints against it. Her blurry vision clears as she blinks, and then, there is Aria. Her big wanting eyes, the dangerous lingerie clinging to her perfect curves, a sharp eyebrow raised as she stares Spencer down.

Aria sets the suspenders on the bed beside the knife and places her palm on Spencer’s forehead, squeezing her fingers into her hair and taking hold. It’s possessive and objectifying, disciplinary, like grabbing the scruff of a mutt you’re about to throw out into the street.

Spencer wants Aria to do it every day.

“I should just leave you like this,” Aria threatens. “We both know you’re gonna come crawling back the next time he can’t keep a hard-on.”

Spencer makes a small noise without meaning to. The sight of Aria saying these words is making her feel faint.

“So,” she says. “You tell me whose whore you are. Him? Or me.”

Spencer’s eyes go wide as she cries, _“Oooo!”_ against the gag, but it isn’t good enough.

Aria pulls tighter on her hair, disappointed. “You’re not even trying.”

Spencer closes her eyes, giving into the delicious pain as she moans in discontent. _“OOOOOOO!”_ she shouts, and almost chokes on the buildup of fluid in her mouth. The sooner this goddamn thing gets removed, the better.

Aria sighs heavily and takes her hands away, dropping them to her sides. ”Can’t even answer a simple question. Worthless.” She thinks for a moment and looks Spencer over. “But if you’re serious and not a waste of my goddamn time, prove it. Choose, right now: his cock, or mine.”

And with that, she reaches over and opens the cuff on Spencer’s left wrist, then her right. Spencer’s arms fall to the bed, and she wants to rub at her tender skin but doesn’t dare move, not with Aria watching. 

“Choose,” Aria says, then she climbs off Spencer and walks out of the bedroom, turning off the light as she exits.

Spencer can’t believe it. Aria really just left her here alone, and like this. She seizes the opportunity to nurse her wrists and scratch a few stray itches along her body, but then doesn’t know what to do. Her first instinct is to undo the mouth gag, but...no. She stops, considering the play here. The game is still on; Aria didn’t say otherwise. What does Aria want her to do?

Choose. That much was made clear.

Spencer sighs a long exhale and lets her head fall against the pillow. She chooses Aria; it’s not even a question. But what does that mean for right _now_ , she wonders. Knowing Aria as well as she does, Spencer has to assume it means showing Aria how much she loves what she did to her. Choosing not to undo her handiwork, choosing to keep them inside, until Aria wants them undone.

So that’s what Spencer does. Swallowing hard around the bitter silicone, she settles in to wait, folding her hands on her stomach and closing her eyes. 

She chooses Aria.

It doesn’t matter than the other option is fictional; Aria is the only thing that exists to her, and Spencer will do whatever Aria wants her to. It’s not that she’s choosing one person over another, it’s that she chooses Aria’s birthday happiness over her own temporary discomfort. 

That’s what love is.

Tired, sweaty, and alone in the dark, Spencer drifts in and out of sleep as she waits. There are distant sounds of metal and wood from another room, but she pushes them from her mind. All she has to worry about now is following Aria’s orders. She squeezes her muscles around the toys, trying to ignore how uncomfortable they’re becoming as the moisture and arousal fade, and fights to recall the memory of the orgasm. It’s slipping through her fingers, drifting outside the edges of her mind, but her body is still humming with aftershocks, so she knows it wasn’t a dream. 

Twenty long minutes later, Spencer hears footsteps in the hallway, and she pulls herself awake and alert, dropping her hands back to her sides as if that would be a more acceptable position. She allows her eyes to adjust and focus on the incoming shadow, the beautiful figure still wrapped in black straps. 

The living room light is on and casts a glow on Aria from behind. She approaches the bed and brushes the hair out of Spencer’s eyes, giving her a small smile, seeing the gag still in her mouth. Spencer remains still and awaits her fate, the judge’s decision. The conviction. Lord knows she’s definitely guilty of something tonight.

Aria looks over between Spencer’s legs and sees things are as she left them. “You chose,” she says with a hint of approval.

Spencer nods, holding wide-eyed contact, still braced for anything. Aria might see fit to yank her hair, choke her with the suspenders, slap her again, even fuck her a second time.

“You chose _me_ ,” Aria says. She leans in close and lets her gaze trail away from Spencer as she hovers by her ear. _“And don’t...you ever...fucking forget it.”_ She stands back upright and pushes a single fingertip against the back of the gag, watching it move just a little further and tug against the tension in the strap. 

Spencer makes another high-pitched sound, eyes pleading for respite. She grabs hold of the bedspread with both hands and prepares for the worst.

But Aria just lets it go and walks back around to the end of the bed, examining her handiwork one final time. “I think my work here is done.” Slowly, carefully, she pulls the larger toy out, watching how Spencer squeezes her eyes shut and winces at the strange sensations. Aria sets it on a small towel on the bed beside her, then reaches to do the same with the plug. It comes less easily, but Spencer’s body is glad to be rid of it. 

Aria walks back up to Spencer and traces the hair off her forehead again. “Game off?”

Nodding, Spencer mumbles, _“Ayy ahh.”_

Aria leans down and kisses her forehead, then says, “You did great tonight. I’ve got dinner in the oven. Get yourself cleaned up; I’ll be out here.” She rubs her thumb across Spencer’s cheek and smiles warmly, then walks back toward the door and turns on the light on her way out.

Spencer removes the gag immediately, groaning and stretching her face, shaking the stiffness out. She gathers the toys and takes them into the shower with her, walking gingerly all the way. Everything hurts as she moves, but she loves how used it makes her feel.

Twenty-one minutes later, she emerges from the bedroom dressed in the suit again (no coat or shoes this time, but suspenders in full view). The familiar smell of their favorite eggplant lasagna fills the apartment; Spencer just picked it up from the grocery the day before.

She slips into the kitchen, where she finds Aria preparing a kale salad.

“Well, hello there,” Aria says, dropping her forks to turn and greet her suitor. She steps forward and slips her hands under the suspenders, gently holding them and tugging Spencer closer for a kiss. The fresh layer of sugary chapstick and splash of cologne mix with the scent of Spencer’s conditioner. All the pieces add up to one ridiculously attractive girlfriend. “God, I still can’t get over how good this looks on you.”

Spencer glances down at the lingerie and says, “Um, same,” with a small laugh.

Aria lets go and grabs her glass of white wine from the counter. “We should play dress-up more often.”

“Hard agree.” Spencer leans against the door frame and rests her head, just looking at her fiancée with a full heart. It doesn’t seem real that she’ll get to look at Aria every day for the rest of their lives. She feels like the luckiest girl in the world.

“You hungry?” Aria asks, handing her a salad bowl. “Or are you still feeling a little...full.” She bites her lip and stifles a laugh.

“Oh, you tell jokes now?” Spencer counters. She grabs it out of Aria’s hand and holds back her own laugh. “Yes, I’m starving. I was supposed to go out to dinner with this tiny madwoman, but I got tied up.”

“Excuse me.” Aria takes a bite of kale and holds up her fork. “I make the bad puns around here.”

Spencer traces a finger down one of the black straps stretching diagonally across Aria’s stomach, watching herself move lower and lower. “God, I love when you talk with your mouth full,” she says facetiously.

Aria makes a face at her, “Shut up.” She breaks away and goes to the cabinet to set out two plates. “Like _you_ haven’t talked with your mouth full all night.”

“Ugh,” she says, scowling at the memory of the gag. “You’d think they’d make those things taste better.”

Aria pulls a wide spatula out of the drawer. “What, dicks? Yeah, they’re working on that.”

“Should I take the lasagna out?” Spencer asks, wanting to be helpful.

Aria checks her phone. “Three minutes.” She continues setting out necessities and letting Spencer watch her move and work. “Did you want wine?”

“God, yes.” Spencer takes the bottle and pours some into the glass Aria already set out for her. Her first sip is good, but she doesn’t recognize the brand. She gives the bottle another look; the script on the label is in too fancy a font to be legible. “Is this new?”

“Yeah, someone recommended it on the Food Network. They said it paired nicely with silk ties and suspenders.”

Spencer takes another sip, humming agreement into her glass. “Sounds like they were right.”

Aria wraps her arms around Spencer’s neck, glass in hand, and leans in to meet her lips. They pull closer together, deepening the kiss, and Aria smiles at how good the wine tastes on Spencer’s tongue. Spencer’s pleased as well; it’s a vast improvement from an hour ago.

Pulling back for a moment, Aria looks into Spencer’s eyes, a bit overcome. “I love you so much. You know that, right?”

Spencer smiles, touched by the sentiment, and remembers that every now and then Aria feels guilty for putting Spencer through their rigorous games, even though she knows, rationally, that the enjoyment is mutual. As many times as they’ve run scenes, it’s a bit silly that Aria would say this now, but it’s also genuine. 

So, Spencer sighs and runs her fingers through Aria’s hair, meeting her worry with complete sincerity. “I do. Only someone who truly loved me would eat my ass with such fervor and dedication--”

“Oh my god,” she says, miffed that Spencer ruined the moment, and steps away to put the over-calligraphed bottle back in the fridge. “You just couldn’t help yourself.”

Thinking back to earlier, Spencer grins and raises her eyebrows, cleverly pointing out, “I could say the same thing about you…”

Aria gasps, trying not to smile. “Well, I didn’t hear you complaining.”

“Oh no, no complaints here!” Spencer crosses her arms, holding her wine glass as she leans against the sink. “I was just a little surprised, is all. If I’d known you were that hungry I could’ve gotten you a birthday cake.”

Aria’s face falls, gravely serious. “There’s no cake?”

Spencer realizes her mistake and freezes, wide-eyed. “I’ll get one tomorrow.”

Aria seems fine with that. “We can have dessert when we get back from Vallozzi’s.” She takes another sip of wine.

“What, so you can have your cake and eat me, too?”

And with that, Aria sprays a mouthful of wine all over Spencer’s no-longer pristine shirt and tie, ruining them both. 

“Oh god,” Aria says, staring in horror.

Spencer stands in shock as well, just looking down at the massive stain. “I didn’t think your line about pairing the wine with my outfit was meant to be literal.”

“Me neither.”

But twenty minutes later, when she and Aria are under the covers together--naked and entwined, Aria’s mouth sucking and nipping at her neck before spending an hour doing the same between her legs--Spencer decides it was well worth it.

**THE END**


End file.
